


King and Consort

by leahholmes12



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Divorce, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Failed Marriage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Royalty, Parents, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-04 21:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leahholmes12/pseuds/leahholmes12
Summary: Merlin reflects on the pain and heartbreak of the last few years of his life. He remembers the infidelity, Arthur's first marriage and divorce, the birth of the children. But when Merlin looks up into Arthur's brilliant blue eyes, his anxiety calms and he feels love. The heavy crown is placed upon his head and Arthur proclaims, "I present to the court Merlin Pendragon, husband to King Arthur Pendragon, father to your prince and princess, and consort king of Camelot."When Merlin stands, his hand perched in Arthur's, Camelot becomes his. Arthur's children are handed to their father, and the royal family stands before their kingdom.Rated for explicit sex, drug abuse, and infidelity.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ. 
> 
> Merlin's anxiety is based purely off of my own struggles with GAD and panic disorder. I am not trying to generalize or claim that his anxiety is the only representation. 
> 
> Further to note is the universe that this story is set in is slightly different than the one we are familiar with. Here, most countries are ruled by monarchs that follow traditional royal standards, especially those regarding choosing heirs and influence of the monarch over aspects of daily life. Here, the monarch makes all decisions for the country.

Each day is the same. 

Merlin wakes up at a pleasant 6:30AM in his childhood bedroom. His comforter is lovingly worn thin from twenty-six years of use. The walls are plastered in posters of fad bands, ticket stubs from obscure indie concerts he and Will attended, and the occasional framed school award. The window is still dressed in the same blue curtains that were there when he came home from the hospital. The floor is devoid of dirty clothes but is instead covered with neat piles of books and papers. Merlin’s room is the epitome of organized chaos, what with his stuffed notebooks full of poetry, the orderly line of used tea cups by the door, and the hundreds of books alphabetized on the three bookcases along the walls. 

Most young adults would scoff at the idea of living at home, but it was a no-brainer for Merlin. Change is difficult for him as it can be for someone with generalized anxiety disorder. He enjoys living in an environment where everything is the same, where the routine is indefinitely preserved. Besides, his mother and his tabby cat, Kilgharrah, are great company. 

After he rubs the sleep from his eyes, Merlin reaches a hand down his pants to feel his usual morning wood. Per routine, he jerks off and comes in exactly seven minutes while fantasizing about men with strong muscles and big cocks. He’s very open about his sexuality, despite never being in a long term relationship. The closest he came was a string of one night stands two years ago. In the meantime, he enjoys his morning wank and ogling at attractive men walking by (that he would never, ever, approach on his own). 

He’s showered, dressed, and clean shaven by 7:30. He usually heads downstairs afterwards to eat a bagel while scrolling through the news. His lunch is neatly packed and out on the counter, consisting of a sandwich, an apple, and some pretzels (the same lunch he’s had since primary school). His coffee is brewed and stowed in his favorite mug before he prepares to leave. He always kisses his mum goodbye and gives the cat a few pets before bolting to the bus. 

Soon 9:00 rolls around and he’s stretching in the men’s dressing room. He’s dressed in his black tights, usual white t-shirt, and worn black ballet shoes. He reaches his arms overhead and enjoys the burn of his muscles in response. Dance is the only way he feels safe, and the only place he can truly be himself. For the past twenty-odd years, Merlin has pushed his body to the limit and back. 

He walks into conditioning that morning ready to work. His body obeys his every command, lithe and long with beautiful grace. The other dancers are his competition, but as a male in a female’s profession, he sees it as a challenge to prove himself each day. Merlin loves every second. 

When he’s dancing, his anxiety melts away. This is perhaps what keeps Merlin going. 

He dresses into his street clothes at 5:00 sharp, tossing his laptop and his notebook into his backpack. Merlin politely says goodbye to his coworkers before hurrying off to meet the bus. As usual, it’s packed and he is forced to sit next to a complete stranger. Merlin is careful to avoid directly looking at his seatmate and pretends to be absorbed in his battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. He prefers to avoid small talk with strangers at all times but especially on the bus. Too many people. 

Merlin enjoys his quick walk home on this crisp evening. He watches squirrels scurry past, birds fly overhead, and the hum of cars passing to his left. It’s relaxing to be an observer of another world and not an active participant. Home looms in the distance with golden light shining from the kitchen window. His mum’s car sits in the driveway and he swears he can see Kilgharrah perched in the windowsill. A small smile stretches across his face as he opens the front door at precisely 5:45. 

His mother, Hunith, hugs him as he comes in. Dinner smells delicious in the background and the cat jumps from his perch to rub on Merlin’s legs. He’s happy. 

Good, warm food is consumed with a cuppa hot tea afterwards. His mum retires to her knitting while Merlin reads with the cat curled on his lap. When Hunith excuses herself for bed, Merlin takes out his pointe shoes to mend. He finishes the evening with an hour of intense stretching before climbing into bed at 11:00. 

It’s a beautiful routine that Merlin loves and cherishes. 

 

 

Each day is different. 

The line between days blurs for Arthur. They usually start at 12:00AM and end at the same time, each day bleeding into the next. It’s often aided by copious amounts of alcohol, a few high end cigars, and at least one small blunt or snort. He has sex at least five times a week with five different blokes or girls, often in dark alleyways, rancid bar bathrooms, or in his own luxury car. The color of his hair varies from its natural blonde, to deep red, to a solid black depending on his mood. The contacts in his eyes change with every passing day. He’s even gotten fairly decent at applying makeup to disguise himself. In all, each of the hundreds of people he’s slept with have no idea of his true identity. 

Today is no different. Arthur finishes off his shot of Fireball and turns his attention to the blonde girl beside him. She’s two beers and at least four shots in, which means she’s hanging onto Arthur’s every word as tightly as she is his forearm. She laughs a little too loud, swings a bit when she walks, but she makes an effort to touch his crotch whenever she can.

“Oh, Brian,” she giggles, grasping his arm tightly. She wobbles a bit as she laughs. “You’re so funny!” 

Arthur, desperate to feel her ass grind against his cock, moves to stand. He slings his arm around the girl’s shoulders to keep her close and to steady himself. In her ear, he whispers, “Dance with me, baby.” His fingers ghost down her arm to her hip. 

Again, she giggles. When she stands, Arthur notices her nipple peeking out from her low-cut dress. He raises a hand to tuck it away but makes sure to tweak it between his index and thumb before doing so. Her pupils dilate with her arousal, and Arthur knows he’s getting lucky tonight. 

And about thirty minutes later, Arthur leads the girl to the back seat of his car. She’s sobered up quite a bit, which means she’s perfectly able to make her own decisions and is more than happy to hop into the car. She slides across the leather seats with her dress riding up to her hips. Her lace panties are now visible. 

Arthur crawls in behind her, shutting and locking the door. He runs his finger tips up her leg, past her hips, and up to her breasts. His heartbeat races as he rubs her nipples through the fabric, and he tugs them out of their restraints after a few minutes of teasing. The girl moans with each of his touches. When Arthur takes her tit in his mouth, the girl nearly shouts. He massages the other with his palm and slides his leg between hers so he can grind his cock against her.

With his mouth sucking on her nipple and dick properly being stimulated, Arthur moves his right hand down to her panties. He pushes them aside and begins to rub the girl’s clit, her hips arching to his touch. Her hands tangle in his hair. 

The only reason he’s hard is the grinding. The girl’s body and her reactions to him barely cause a twitch down south.

Soon, it becomes too much for Arthur to handle. He withdraws his hand and lets her tit fall back to her chest. In a second, his cock is out and he’s positioned himself between the girl’s leg, her I wear in a ball on the floor. She asks about a condom, to which Arthur quickly yanks one out to avoid both a bastard child and a STD. When he pushes inside of her, she moans loudly and he releases a deep, guttural noise. After giving her a moment to adjust, he begins to fuck her hard and fast. 

When she comes around his cock, Arthur reaches his personal crisis point. Straight men usually feed off of the woman’s orgasm to lead to their own release, but Arthur struggles immensely to climax with women. He pulls out, closes his eyes to image the situation he wishes he was in, and immediately hates himself. The entire purpose of fucking women is to try and coerce himself into being sexually compatible with them. And not the men he wishes he was with.

Arthur pumps his hand fast up and down his dick until he feels the pressure build. Before he comes, he shifts his weight up to that his cock is level with her belly, tugs off the condom, and then shoots ribbons all over her tits. After, he rubs his come into her skin with the tip of cock so that she’s covered in his seed. 

The girl tries to pull him down to kiss her, but Arthur stiffens his back. He doesn’t show true affection towards the people he sleeps with and kissing feels like an intimate action to be done with someone he cares for. She looks disappointed, but the look in Arthur’s eyes keeps her from speaking. Arthur clears his throat awkwardly and extends a hand to help her sit up. He produces a pack of wipes to clean her up. Without his consent and while he is otherwise busy, the girl presses a kiss to his temple. Arthur immediately straightens up, places the box beside himself, and tugs his pants back up. 

“It was lovely to meet you, but you need to get the hell out of my car,” he harshly says.

She looks at him with her eyes wide in surprise. “You don’t want to meet again?”

“No.” 

“Oh, um, okay.” Her voice cracks with emotion. Arthur fears she might cry and wants her to leave before he finds out for sure. 

The girl tucks her breasts into her top, adjusts her underwear, and gives him one last glance before leaving his car. 

Arthur feels no remorse whatsoever. Just pure hatred of himself. 

After shooting a quick text to Gwaine to drive him home, Arthur settles into the seat. He pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead, checks the time, and groans. He needs to be up and dressed by 9:00 (a mere seven hours away) for the state breakfast. The trials of being the prince of a small, yet very profitable, country. He makes a mental note to ask Gwaine and his other equerries to assemble the appropriate clothing for the day to allow him an extra few minutes of precious sleep. He lights a cigarette to calm himself to sleep soon.

Gwaine drives him home to the palace (Arthur isn’t dumb enough to drive after drinking). The guards who check the car, who see the young prince in a quite unpresentable state with a lit cigarette between his fingers, have been paid handsomely for their silence. They cast him an annoyed glance but wave Gwaine through the heavy metal gates. In the dark, one can barely make out the elaborate landscaping and the looming outline of the summer palace. The tall hedges cast ominous shadows on the road. There aren’t any apparent lights on other than those in rooms occupied by security, and Arthur feels certain that he won’t run into his father or sister at this time of night. The security cameras can be easily erased with a little persuasion. 

The car smoothly arrives in the expansive garage. The bright lights flick on and nearly blind Arthur. Gwaine comes around to assist him from the car and sneakily to his chambers, avoiding any possible run-ins with members of court or household servants. 

Arthur’s personal suite is neat, furnished in dark woods and deep reds. His bed can fit three people, his shower has four heads, and his closet is the size of a small primary school classroom. Despite all his luxuries, Arthur can only find peace in a small room off to the side - his painting studio. Unknown to most of the kingdom, Arthur is a skilled artist. His paintings sell for thousands under an alias. 

Gwaine helps him wash the color from his hair, remove his contacts, and prepare for bed. Arthur falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Despite having a roaring nightlife, Arthur’s days are filled with meetings, dinners, and charity appearances. He goes through the routine, smiling when appropriate, nodding when asked a question. His mind is often on how to avoid speaking his father, how to avoid a physical confrontation with his father, and even better - avoiding his sister, Morgana, and her young chambermaid Gwen. The girl has a title (albeit a weak one as a Lady) and seems to have a strange fascination with him. If she wasn’t his sister’s maid Arthur would probably be forced to court her. 

He finishes the day with a charity dinner, and then he’s back out at the bars two hours later with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

It’s a routine Arthur hates. 

 

Two days later, Arthur finds himself sitting across from his father in the king’s study. Both of the men are dressed in their formal military wear, dripping in prestige and pomp, with their respective crowns sitting heavily on their heads after an early dinner with the king and queen of a neighboring country along with their two children. One of this “children” is a prince, who is roughly Arthur’s age with a wife and child on the way. Arthur had thought the dinner went relatively well; there wasn’t any arguing or disrespect throughout the entire meal. It was grand, stately, and polite. However, it appeared that Uther didn’t feel similarly. 

“Now. Arthur,” Uther begins. He folds his hands on the table between them. As the man moves, his metals clink against each other. “Do you know why I’ve asked to meet with you?” 

Arthur hesitates, fearing to say the wrong answer. He pretends to adjust one of the half dozen metals hanging from his own jacket. His eyes remain fixed on Uther’s hands, showing submission to his king. “I’m not sure, sir.” 

“Did you notice anything in particular about Lady Elizabeth?” Uther asks in reference to the prince’s wife. 

And suddenly, Arthur know where this conversation is headed. It’s been revisited time and time again since Arthur formally accepted his role as heir to the throne when he was twenty-one. The only heir to the crown and the last Pendragon male. “Yes, she is with child.” Arthur hates the formality in his voice but knows anything less would be seen as disrespect. 

Uther nods and points a finger at his son. “That correct, Arthur, she is. Have you thought any more about our little conversation a few months ago?”

“Yes, father,” Arthur says. “As I told you last time, I’m not ready for marriage or - “

“What happens when I die, Arthur?” Uther interjects. His voice is full of anger and bite. Suddenly, he looks every bit of the tyrannical king he is.

Arthur recoils but quickly regains his composure. He must show strength, however little he has left after twenty-eight years of living under Uther’s reign. “I’ll become king.”

“And what happens if you suddenly pass away without an heir?”

“The Pendragon rule will end,” Arthur recites. He’s internally rolling his eyes, they’ve been through this hundreds of times. Uther can’t seem to understand that Arthur isn’t prepared for marriage, let alone a child. Both the king and prince are in good health, so there isn’t an immediate reason to worry about keeping the line. Long term, yes, there is a reason to worry. The Camelot monarchy is male-dominated, so Morgana will never become queen in her own right. The bloodline will only continue through Arthur’s male offspring. It’s a lot of pressure for a young adult to bear, especially one who struggles to understand his sexualilty and what it would mean for his kingdom.

There is not a precedent to follow for a homosexual king to produce legitimate heirs. Hence his own attempts to turn himself straight. 

Uther stands abruptly and leans over the desk so his face is level with Arthur’s. “And we don’t want that to happen, do we? So I think you need to get your head screwed on and find yourself a wife. Lady Vivian will be visiting next week. I suggest you make an attempt to woo her.” 

Arthur sighs. Vivian is perhaps the dumbest, most uninteresting woman he’s met. The only thing she has going for her is her title and her big tits. Arthur sleeps with her every year after their annual holiday party, but that’s the extent of their relationship. It’s another failed attempt to change himself. “Yes, father. I will.”

“It’s your duty.” Uther grits his teeth before speaking again. “And don’t think I don’t know about your weekend adventures, Arthur. I cannot allow you to have illegitimate children.”

Arthur flicks his eyes to meet Uther’s. The anger in his father’s eyes is enough to make Arthur’s blood run cold. He’d been naive to think that his little secret wouldn’t get out. He can only hope that one of the guards tipped off his father and not the media. Or someone in court. 

Uther leans in so his face is dangerously close to Arthur’s. In a low, deep voice the king says, “And I better not find out you have AIDS from those gays you’ve been fucking either.” 

Arthur’s heart stops. 

“You’re excused, Arthur.” Uther moves away and back into his seat. “Don’t you dare test me again. I have no problems arranging a marriage for you. I thought I was doing you a favor in avoiding that thus far.” 

Before he can get another word in, Arthur is out the door and down the hallway, fuming. He grabs his phone and quickly texts the equerries to meet him in his chambers to help him prep to leave and take him out of the palace; he needs to become someone else for a while. He needs to breathe free air, be away from the pressures of his throne. His father shouldn’t have a say in how he spends his free time and certainly not in who Arthur decides to fuck. Arthur’s an adult, more than old enough to decide his own future. But it’s always the same with Uther - if you cross him, you will regret it with every fiber of your being. 

When Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percy reply that they are unable to meet him due to Uther’s new required all day security training, Arthur takes matters into his own hands. He rubs brown temporary dye into his hair, dusts on a fake beard shadow, and drops in a pair of green contacts. After changing into a t-shirt and jeans, he throws on a hat and grabs his wallet and backpack from under his bed. Years ago he’d mastered sneaking down the hallways to avoid his sister’s chambers or the rooms Uther occupies so he has no trouble pushing his way to the back down of the palace. Several guards try to stop him, insisting that he doesn’t go outside alone, but Arthur either ignores or tells them to fuck off. He’s sure word word will get back to Uther, and he’ll be berated once again. 

Without a real destination in mind (it’s scarcely 5:15 so no clubs or bars are open yet) but a thirst for escape, Arthur climbs on the bus. It’s crowded with after work commuters, so he’s forced to take a seat next to a stranger. His seatmate glances up from over the top of a book and quickly glances back down. Arthur gets a glimpse of bright eyes, clear skin, and sharp cheekbones. His hair is jet black and messy. It’s alluring. And Arthur has an urge to strike a conversation. 

Arthur clears his throat once before leaning over and saying, “What are you reading?”

The man seems immediately taken aback. He glances over at Arthur, then he closes his book to show in the cover. Pride and Prejudice. This exchange is completely silent. 

“Mm,” Arthur says, nodding in acknowledgement. “I read that back in secondary school. I hated it, to be honest.”

The man nods, but he also cracks a quick smile. He still doesn’t seem to want to speak to Arthur. Again, strangely alluring. The man’s body language makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk, but Arthur can’t resist. There’s something about the chase that thrills him. It’s a distraction and very welcomed. 

Arthur shifts his body so he can get a better look at the man. He’s young, maybe mid-twenties to Arthur’s nearly thirty, but he looks wise beyond his years with a set of wire glasses and ink stained hands. “I didn’t think people read it for fun.”

The man chuckles a bit to himself, again looking briefly over to Arthur. “I guess I’m one of a minority.” 

“I guess you are,” Arthur replies with a bit of flirtiness. This man is exactly Arthur’s type - shy, mysterious, and handsome. Uther’s threat looms in the back of his mind, but Arthur shakes it away. He wants to do something for himself. “I’m Nick,” he says, randomly choosing an alias. 

The other man drops his gaze. “I’m Merlin.” 

“It suits you,” Arthur comments, gratefully to have a name to the face. 

“How would you know?” Merlin quickly replies, showing a bit of a cheeky side. “You don’t know me.” 

And now Arthur sees a perfect way to slide in his number. His second phone, at least. The one that Uther (hopefully) doesn’t know about. On a slip of paper drawn from his backpack, Arthur scribbles his number and hands it to Merlin. “Text me sometime and we can change that.” 

Merlin looks at Arthur hand apprehensively, but eventually he takes the paper and places it inside his book. He gather his belongings, and motions for Arthur to let him out of the seat. “I hope you have a good evening, Nick,” Merlin quietly says as he moves past Arthur and off the bus. 

Arthur watches the long, tall man depart in the direction of a few small row houses. It’s quaint. In the back of his mind, however, he feels that he’ll never see the endearing man again. But in the front of it, he’s really hoping to see a new message in his inbox tonight. 

And just as Arthur sits down to order himself dinner at a local pub, he receives a text:

Unknown: Hello, it’s Merlin from earlier this afternoon. I’m just letting you know that I finished Pride and Prejudice and I intend to start another cheesy classic tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Merlin hours and hours craft an initial message to Nick. He checked grammar, he googled dating websites, and he even had his dear mother put in her input. It’s been years since Merlin had been on the receiving end of affection from anyone other than Hunith or the cat. He greatly fears making a fool of himself, getting excited over nothing, or being used for something other than love. That’s what happened last time, and it nearly tore Merlin apart. 

When he sends the damn text, Merlin tosses his phone onto the bed and immediately begins pacing around the room. He wrings his hands and constantly checks his phone for the next ten minutes before calling himself pathetic and sitting down in front of his closet mirror. His body is shaky, his heart pounding in his chest, from the influx of anxiety. He has to stretch. He has to concentrate on something else. He can’t get himself all worked up because of a fucking text. 

Merlin rolls out his mats, extends his legs, and stretches his body so his hands loop around the arches of his feet. The burn is a welcome distraction, and he starts to feel the endorphins kick in. He concentrates on his breathing. In. Out. In. 

His heartbeat begins to slow. 

Methodically, Merlin runs through each of his stretches to keep limber and soft. As he concentrates on working out the soreness from the day’s practice, the stress of his phone is forgotten. The exercise warms his body and brings a healthy flush to his usually pale skin. 

In the mirror, Merlin sees his strong frame with defined muscles. He sees his perfect posture. He sees how twenty years of intense training have molded his long body into something close to a work of art. Yet, it’s still not good enough. Merlin points out his acne scars, his ears that stick out just a little too far, and how his elbows and knees are insanely knobby. He sees the sharp angles of his face and wishes them gone. No imperfection goes unnoticed. 

Merlin’s phone buzzes from across the room, more than two hours since Merlin sent the initial message. Not more than a second later, the man has thrown himself onto his bed to frantically read the message. His heartbeat is back to racing and a fresh sheen of sweat covers his skin. 

Nick: Just please don’t pick Sense and Sensibility. 

It’s short, much shorter than Merlin had hoped and very impersonal. He wonders if he’d overshared in his initial message about finishing Pride and Prejudice and should’ve just introduced himself instead. He sits on the edge of his bed, twiddling his thumbs, for exactly twenty minutes - what he deems an appropriate time to wait - before typing out another carefully crafted response. He writes perhaps two dozen drafts before the final message is crafted. As a result, it’s nearly an hour later before he sends: 

Merlin: No promises. It’s another great book. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Arthur receives the text, he’s sitting at his favorite bar with a cold beer in his hand. Gwaine and Elyan sit on either side of him, both with water before them. It’s quite a lonely existence when your only friends in the world work for you, Arthur thinks. He isn’t even sure what true, honest friendship feels like. 

That afternoon, his equerries had been alerted almost immediately after Arthur left the palace grounds. It took almost two hours to catch up to him after Arthur disabled the GPS on both his phones. He made the unfortunate mistake of hitting up his favorite pub for dinner and sitting near the window. The feeling of embarrassment as Gwaine and Elyan came bursting through the doors was immense. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Arthur quips, a little bit tipsy and a whole lot angry. He’s only three beers in, so the effects of the alcohol are disappointingly minimal. These depressing situations are so much harder when sober. 

Gwaine retorts, “On the contrary, my friend, it appears you do.”

Arthur shakes his head and takes a large gulp from his glass. “Oh, because I wanted to get out a bit? Stretch my legs? That warrants a babysitter?”

Before Gwaine can offer another piece of his brilliant wit, Elyan gently says, “You know you can’t just leave. You know it’s dangerous for you. What if something happens?” 

Arthur knows Elyan’s right. If he’d gotten hurt or worse, killed or publically humiliated by the media, it would be a disgrace to the entire Pendragon family. If he was to abdicate his throne as a result and if Morgana doesn’t give birth to a son, the Pendragon bloodline would end. Uther would certainly murder Arthur himself if he wasn’t already dead. 

But the life of a young prince is not an easy one to live. So many rules, so many pressures… All Arthur wants to do is paint whenever he wishes, fuck whoever he wants, and make his own damn decisions. 

In response to Elyan, Arthur merely shrugs, chugs the remainder of his drink, and simply says, “I’m aware.” The icy look in Arthur’s eye is enough to end any thoughts of continuing the conversation. 

Gwaine and Elyan lean back in their seats, taking the hint and yielding Arthur some much needed space. Magically, another tall beer appears before himself, courtesy of the attentive bartender, and half is downed in one gulp. Arthur slips his phone out from his pocket to type out a quick reply back to Merlin, some fifteen minutes after receiving the other’s text. 

Arthur couldn’t care less about all those magazines that claim there’s an appropriate waiting time between sending texts to a prospective lover. He has immense confidence in his ability to woo a potential bed warmer. He knows that if he really wanted it, he could have Merlin in his bed right now. Metaphorically, of course. He wouldn’t dare sneak a boy into the palace, especially after he’s been freshly outed to Uther. 

“Alright, lads,” he says as he types out a quick response to Merlin. “Someone get me a cigarette and drive me to Ultrabar. I need a blowjob and to forget my pitiful existence.”

Nick: I never finished the first fifty pages. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And following that, Arthur and Merlin text each other whenever possible. Arthur learns that Merlin’s a dancer and performing as the prince in Swan Lake, that he lives with his mother and his cat, and that he has a passion for reading that can’t seem to be quenched. He knows that Merlin doesn’t drink or smoke lest he jeopardize his body, that he hasn’t seriously dated anyone ever, and that he’s never driven a car in his life. Merlin’s mentioned once that he suffers from anxiety, probably stemming from the pressures of a dancer’s world, and that his pointe shoes give him constant blisters. 

On the other hand, Merlin still knows Arthur as “Nick.” To him, Nick works in royal court (and hence, can’t be texting the other very frequently). He hates reading and smokes occasionally when he’s drunk. However, Merlin doesn’t know exactly why. He also doesn’t know that Nick goes out nearly every night looking for sex and sometimes drugs. 

Three weeks after they meet, Arthur proposes dinner. It’s the first time he’s ever asked anyone out on a traditional date, and he’s never been more nervous for anything in his life. The butterflies in his stomach make his coronation seem like a walk in the park. He isn’t sure what to expect (or what is expected of him), and that makes the experience all the more terrifying. The heightened threat of Uther further complicates things.

The plans were made entirely in secret, with Gwaine, Percy, Leon, and Elyan as the only others in the loop. Uther believes that Arthur and the lads are privately spending the evening together (to play video games and drink expensive beer and eat gourmet pizza in Arthur’s chambers), and thus hopefully leave them alone. In the event that Uther does come knocking, Elyan and Leon are staying behind to convince the king that Arthur is out walking the grounds with the others. If a dire situation arises, they know to call Percy and text Arthur. Their loyalty warms Arthur’s heart. 

Arthur will drive Gwaine’s Toyota (and not his own insanely expensive and lush Rolls Royce) to avoid a missing car in the garage while the two other men ride in Percy’s SUV behind him. The equerries will enjoy a meal at the same over priced restaurant as Arthur and Merlin, a few tables away. And if Arthur’s somehow gets lucky, they know to wait just out of sight. 

Arthur dresses in a navy button down with a pair of khakis, shaves his face clean, and carefully applies the same brown temporary hair color to his head and eyebrows that Merlin knows Nick to have. He falters when trying to remember the eye color he’d chosen that day and hopes for the best. He brushes on a splash of his most expensive cologne and opts for his second most expensive watch (he wouldn’t want to appear too bougie, after all). When it approaches seven, Gwaine calls Arthur a princess and tells him to move his arse or they’ll be late. Arthur reminds him of his status, that his hair looks like shit, and he’d better watch out the next time they play Call of Duty. 

The two arrange to meet at the restaurant since Merlin would be coming straight from work a few blocks away (which Arthur took into account when choosing where to eat). And since Arthur has to be careful not to stray too far from Gwaine and Percy in traffic, he arrives a few minutes later than planned and smelling of cigarettes from the need to calm his nerves. But when he sees Merlin walking up with his backpack slung over his shoulders and looking slightly out of place, feeling melts away.

Arthur quickly scrambles out of his car, checking one more time that his hair is still brown and not its natural blonde, and walks towards the now waiting man. He’s even handsomer than Arthur remembers. “Hello, Merlin.”

The other man looks a bit startled but slowly relaxes into a wide smile. “Hi, Nick.” 

“After you,” Arthur says as he gestures towards the door. Percy and Gwaine hop out of their and begin to walk quickly towards Arthur and Merlin. He catches the eye of Percy briefly, daring him to come any closer, before following Merlin inside. 

Dinner is everything Arthur could have hoped for. Arthur somehow convinces Merlin to share a bottle of fancy wine (which he drinks almost all himself) and toasts to the cliche “good company, good food.” The conversation flows naturally between the two men, as if they’ve been friends for longer than a few weeks, and Arthur enjoys getting to listen to Merlin’s voice instead of reading his messages on his phone. As a precaution, Arthur keeps most of the conversation centered around Merlin or about his superficial preferences to avoid slipping up about his true identity. They talk about everything from when Merlin started dancing to their mutual love of Harry Potter to how Arthur hates sushi. When their food arrives, it’s only a necessary break from their fluent chatter and a chance for their hands to accidentally brush when they reach for more bread. 

Honestly, Arthur usually sticks to the short, commanding, and harsh side of his personality when interacting with anyone other than the equerries. But Merlin brings something out in him that nobody else has, and that’s pretty damn impressive since they two only met a few weeks ago. 

After they finish eating and Arthur pays the check (Merlin tried to help, but the other would never let that happen), they decide that he’ll drive Merlin home. The conversation continues to flow, and Merlin seems to open up a little more. The lad has a cheeky sense of humor that Arthur can have a good bout of banter with.

Reluctantly, Arthur comes to a stop before Merlin’s darkened home, watching Percy and Gwaine come to a stop at the end of the street. He puts the car into park, wonders if Merlin noticed them being followed, and a silence falls between the two of them for the first time nearly all evening. And now begins the awkward, should-I-kiss-him-goodnight mental debate. After enacting his strict rule against kissing his sexual conquests, Arthur’s lips haven’t touched another’s in a least a year (if not more). But this is a date and it feels different - not fueled by sexual tensions on both sides - but by something more. 

“Well,” Merlin begins after clearing his throat. He looks straight ahead and suddenly reverts back to being shy and nervous. “I had a nice night. It was lovely getting to know you a bit more.”

“Likewise.” Arthur turns to Merlin and is only able to make out his basic facial features in the dark. He isn’t even sure he’d be able to find Merlin’s mouth without making a fool of himself. Is this supposed to be so stressful? 

A pregnant pause rests between them, as it’s obvious both of the men are wondering the same thing. 

Arthur shifts in his seat, squints his eyes quickly to make out the shape of Merlin’s face. He slowly leans forward and raises his hand to what he hopes is Merlin’s jaw. After he feels the prick of beard stubble in his palm, Arthur feels slightly relieved. 

Merlin doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans over towards Arthur too. Taking the hint, Arthur uses his hand on Merlin’s face to guide their mouths together. Their lips softly meet, hesitant. To Arthur, this kiss sparks something in his chest he’s been too afraid to feel before. 

They break apart just as softly as they met and quickly are recaptured in a second kiss. This one is more passionate than the first, full with a mutual need to love and be loved. Merlin lifts his hand so that it gently grasps Arthur’s upper arm and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

For the first time in his life, Arthur feels like a part of himself has slipped into place. They embrace each other for a few more minutes, kissing and touching in the way only new lovers can. Arthur traces Merlin’s jawline with this finger, Merlin runs his hand down Arthur’s other arm to grasp his hand, they kiss without tongue but with the most passion Arthur has ever felt. 

They break for a moment to catch their breath. Arthur settles back into his seat and touches a finger to his numb lips. It’s been ages since he’s been kissed like that, and he loves it. He decides to do the polite thing and ask Merlin on a second date. His confidence wavers slightly, something that seems to be a common theme tonight. “Would you want to see me again?”

There is a slight hesitation before Merlin answers with a clear, “Yes. I would like that.” 

Arthur smiles, feeling triumphant. “Excellent. I’ll text you tomorrow about it.” 

Merlin nods and moves to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Kiss me goodnight one last time?” he quietly asks as if unsure of the answer. 

Arthur settles his hand on the back of Merlin’s neck so better guide them together in the dark. Again, their lips meet in a gentle, soft touch that makes Arthur’s heart beat heavy in his chest. They break apart slowly as if to savour the other for a second longer. 

Merlin reaches for the door handle but then hesitates before actually opening the door. “Would you like to come in?” From the way Merlin avoids Arthur gaze, he can tell it took a lot of guts to work up the confidence to utter that. 

Arthur straightens up slightly, unsure of the meaning behind those words. “I don’t spent the night with dates.” 

“Oh, I didn’t - I just wanted to know if you would like to come in, maybe do a little more than kissing?” 

Shit, maybe he’ll get laid after all. In response to Merlin, Arthur turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Do you have condoms?” he asks. “If not, I have a few.”

Despite the darkness, Arthur is certain that he can see Merlin blush. “I - I don’t, actually.” 

“No worries,” Arthur nonchalantly says as he reaches across to his glove compartment. He takes out a few condoms and a small bottle of lube (for all his male conquests) and tucks them safely into his deep jacket pocket. He’s feeling a burn in the pit of his stomach from excitement and arousal. 

Merlin waits until after Arthur turns the car off to move his hand over to the handle. He glances back at Arthur, as if waiting for him to change his mind. When Arthur opens his door, the lights flood the car. In that light, Arthur can cast Merlin a quick smile before he ducks out of the car. 

The two men walk quickly up the front walk, one with an air of confidence and the other with his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep them from visibly shaking. Merlin unlocks the front door and quietly pushes it open, checking quickly for his mum. The downstairs is dark save for the safety lights here and there, which lets Arthur feel a bit more at ease. He doesn’t fancy meeting Merlin’s mother after the first date. Kilgharrah hops down the stairs and eyes Arthur, sizing up the newest competitor for Merlin affection. 

Arthur follows Merlin quietly up the stairs, careful to avoid the cat, and breathes a sigh of relief when Merlin reaches for the knob of the door to his bedroom. When the door closes behind the two of them, Arthur immediately places his hands on either side of Merlin’s face. He kisses him square on the mouth and tries to gently prod entry between Merlin’s lips with his tongue. Permission is granted and soon the two kiss openly, hungrily, and passionately. Arthur can’t remember the last time he felt such an animalistic need to be touched by another. And from the way Merlin hesitantly loops his fingers into Arthur’s belt, he think the other feels the same. 

Arthur pushes Merlin up against the back of the door and keeps him trapped by placing his elbows on either side of the man’s face. He purposefully breaks the kiss to look Merlin in the eye as he says, “I don’t make love.”

“Oh?” Merlin asks, eyes suddenly widening. The man’s hands withdraw from Arthur’s hips. “Why’s that?”

“I fuck. Hard.” Arthur presses his hips flush against his partner’s so his hard cock presses against Merlin’s. And damn, it feels like a big dick through his jeans. Merlin moans in response and lulls his head back against the wooden door.

“Is that okay with you?” Arthur asks, mouthing his way down Merlin’s neck. He bites down on the flesh at the base of Merlin’s neck to emphasize the point. 

Merlin returns his hands to Arthur’s hips and pulls their bodies together. “Yes, god yes.” 

Arthur pushes his hands into Merlin’s back pockets, palming his arse as he does so. Breaking off of Merlin’s neck, he says, “Are you okay with bottoming?”

Merlin nods profusely. “Yes, please.”

“You like a big cock up your arse, huh?”

“I do. So much.” The words don’t sound right coming from Merlin’s mouth, but damn, Arthur loves it. 

Arthur is the one who moans this time in response, frantically grinding against Merlin and savoring the delicious friction. And suddenly, he drops to his knees before the man. In one fluid motion, Arthur tugs down Merlin’s trousers and begins to lick and tease his cock through the fabric of his boxers. God, it’s been too long since he’d done this. Usually, he’s on the receiving end. 

His tongue traces the pronounced outline of Merlin’s cock, and he sucks on the tip as much as he can through his pants. Merlin’s hand apprehensively pushes Arthur’s head forward, the noises coming from his mouth are a mixture of kitten mews and deep groans. 

Slowly, Arthur peels off the offending material and takes Merlin whole into his mouth. Merlin jerks slightly from surprise and his breathing picks up. “Shit,” he breathlessly says. And when Arthur begins to move his head back and forth, Merlin’s hips move to meet him. After a few minutes of this, Arthur pulls off and begins to lick and tease at Merlin’s tip, eliciting more sounds from the man’s mouth. Merlin’s hand guides Arthur back to his cock and begins thrusting into Arthur’s mouth. 

When Arthur can’t stand it anymore, he abruptly withdraws and rises to his feet. He stands before Merlin and works off his own belt. “Take your clothes off,” he orders as he drops his trousers. His shirt joins them, revealing several tattoos etched into his skin. Many are results of heavy drinking and impulse, but thankfully aren’t visible unless he’s shirtless.

He watches Merlin quickly shed his layers, and the sight of the man’s beautifully sculpted body takes his breath away. Arthur traces his hand down Merlin’s side tenderly, but when his hand reaches behind to cup the man’s arse, he slaps it hard. The sound pierces the silence of the room. 

“It’s been a while for me,” Merlin utters, almost shamefully. 

In response, Arthur resumes sucking on Merlin’s neck and replies, “I’ll be gentle.” He hopes. “Get on the bed and take off your shirt.” 

Merlin scrambles across the room and onto his bed. It’s small - only a twin - and doesn’t look like it can hold much weight or force. Arthur prays he doesn’t break it. He slowly walks across the room with the lube and condom in his hand, eyeing the man from head to toe. Merlin’s body is truly a work of art. “No bruises or love bites, I take it?” he asks as he lowers himself onto the bed.

“No, not preferably,” Merlin quickly replies. “My body is - it’s literally my job.”

“Mm.” Arthur positions himself so that he lays between Merlin’s legs and their faces are level. “Let me know if I go too far.” He opens the lube and coats his fingers. 

He bends his head downwards and bites down on Merlin’s left nipple while his hand nudges itself between the man’s legs. He strokes the outside of Merlin’s entrance briefly before pushing his finger inside with the aid of lubrication. Merlin arches his back into his touch. 

“You like that?” Arthur asks, pushing deeper. 

Merlin simply nods and replies, “Mm, yeah.”

And that is all the consent Arthur needs. He rams his middle finger up to the knuckle inside of Merlin, withdraws, and then thrusts back inside harder than before. With his other hand, he strokes himself in time with the movements. Soon, a second and third finger join the first and Arthur’s hand moves to close around Merlin’s throat in a light choke. It turns him impossibly on. 

When Merlin pants, “Put your fucking cock inside me,” Arthur spills precome all over the man’s pristine quilt.

He pulls away his fingers and reaches for the condom. In a swift motion, he’s opened it and begins to unroll it on himself. “Get on your hands and knees and I’ll fuck you until you come.” 

Merlin obeys and crouches before Arthur. The man slathers on some extra lube for precaution then spanks Merlin’s arse harder than before. He slaps his cock against Merlin’s arse a few times before abruptly pushes inside. When he begins to thrust, Arthur is sure to punctuate every few times with a hard spank or a jerk of the other man’s cock. He’s made a few nice hand prints on Merlin’s skin as a result. And judging by Merlin’s loud moans, the man likes it as much as Arthur does. 

Fuck, with the noise they’re making, they’ve probably woken Merlin’s mum.

When Merlin’s moans and gasps reach a high point, Arthur reaches around the man’s hips and begins to pump Merlin’s cock. It only takes a few seconds before Merlin’s gasping, “I’m gonna come, Nick, I’m gonna fucking come right now.”

And that he does. Arthur feels wetness spurt from Merlin’s cock and onto the bed beneath them. Merlin groans with each release, which tips something inside of Arthur too. He yanks out his own cock and rips off the condom just in time to cover Merlin’s mess with his own. 

The men remain in silence for a moment before Merlin turns over. He gathers the soiled quilt and pushes it onto the floor before laying face-up on his bed. His body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat that glistens in the low light. Arthur smiles as he moves to lay in the small empty space beside him, another action he typically avoids in his one-night-stands. 

“That was nice,” Arthur says, struggling to find the right way to start conversation. 

Merlin chuckles quietly. “Yeah, definitely.” 

Arthur rolls onto his side and meets Merlin’s eye before leaning in to kiss him once more. When they part, he gently traces the side of Merlin’s face. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” Merlin replies. He hesitantly raises a hand to rest on Arthur’s forearm and traces circles into the skin with his thumb..

“I should be getting home. I have work tomorrow.” 

Merlin nods and adverts his gaze. His disappointment is evident in his voice. “Yeah, sure. Let me know if you want to meet again.” There’s a slight note of desperateness in his voice that alarms Arthur. 

Arthur sits up so that he can look down at the other man. He needs to be truthful; he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. “I hope we do. But I’m not sure you’d be wise to be involved with me… in an exclusive way. I don’t do relationships, and I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” It’s the truth, however painful. He could never be romantically involved with anyone of his choice right not, let alone a man. He needs to focus on finding a woman with a decent title and a fertile womb. And it’s not fair to Merlin to let him think anything else. 

Merlin stiffens. “So you just wanted to fuck me and then move on to the next man?”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t need to,” Merlin quietly says at almost a whisper. He rolls over so his face is away from Arthur’s. “Please just leave.”

“Merlin -” 

“I said leave.” The sudden, unexpected gruffness in Merlin’s voice is enough to send Arthur scrambling for his clothes and out the door. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin’s upset for a solid week until he walks into his dressing room the night before the opening night of Swan Lake and finds a brand new pair of pointe shoes waiting for him with an unsigned note that reads:

I don’t do relationships, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try. I have something I need to tell you first. I’ll meet you outside the theatre after your show tomorrow night. 

Now, not only the king, prince, and princess are attending opening night tomorrow but so is Nick. Talk about pressure.


	3. Chapter 3

When Arthur watches Merlin dance, his breath is taken away. His body is so lithe and graceful, the lines smooth. He admires the way Merlin’s clothes cling to his toned muscles ever so slightly, while his feet gently glide across the stage. Arthur wonders if Merlin wearing the new shoes he’d sent and if he’s seen the flowers in his dressing room yet. He finds himself hiding his smile behind his hand, out of view of Uther and Morgana. 

But just in case Uther is looking, he reaches over and takes the hand of Lady Vivian, who’s visiting the family for the next week. They’ve had sex every night for the past five days and tonight will be no different. Arthur secretly hopes she’ll become pregnant and he’ll be blessed with a bastard child without having to marry the woman first. It would look bad for the family’s reputation though. 

Arthur dreads when he’ll have to reveal his true identity to Merlin. In his ideal world, Arthur would fully continue his life as Nick. This alternative personality he’s taken up has been a blissful escape for the past month or so. He’s able to let down his guard, laugh a little, and be himself for the first time in years. 

Again, he isn’t sure how Merlin was able to make such an impact on his life in such a short amount of time. He just knows that the two times he’s been with the man in person, his life felt full and complete. And now, as he watches Merlin dance, Arthur feels that same sense of warmth. Almost like they’re two sides of the same coin. 

But with every fiber of his being, Arthur hates himself and what he’s let his life become. During intermission, Arthur drinks an entire flask of vodka in the bathroom to help take the edge off. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After the show concludes and the final bows are taken, Merlin hurries back to his dressing room. The first thing he notices is the huge bouquet of flowers waiting for him, full of bright poppies and elegant roses alike. He grins as he reaches for the note and is delighted to read that’s it from Nick - not his mother - this time. He may be male, but he certainly loves getting flowers as much as any girl. However, their presence only makes him more apprehensive to see Nick. 

I don’t do relationships, rings again in Merlin’s head. His stomach drops as he recalls how shitty he felt that night, curled up in bed alone and feeling used. But then the note, the shoes, and now this… Merlin feels sick to his stomach with anxiety. He doesn’t like the uncertainty, especially in a possible relationship. Shakily, Merlin reaches into his backpack for the pack of ginger capsules and pops two into his mouth to remedy his growing nausea. Slowly, Merlin dresses in his only tuxedo, washes the stage makeup from his face, and prepares for the long night ahead. 

He just wants sex, his mind tells him. He doesn’t want you.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Merlin enters the large banquet hall, he feels his body heat up and his heart rate increase exponentially. Sweat pools in every crevice of his body, and he wants nothing more than to not have small talk with fifty people whom he’ll probably never meet again. He scans the room quickly, looking for the familiar brown hair and green eyes that belong to Nick. Before he has a chance fully assess the room, Freya lightly touches his arm. 

She looks stunning in her white, flowing gown (suitable for a true swan princess) and gives him a reassuring smile. “Let’s go listen to people congratulate us,” she whispers in his ear. “But first, we deserve a bit of champagne.”

With Freya’s hand holding loosely on his arm, Merlin follows her to the closest waiter balancing a tray of drinks. He’s apprehensive about drinking - as he always is - but he hopes that the alcohol will take the edge off of his anxiety enough that he can actually interact with others. The glass is cool to his touch and the drink feels refreshing to his parched lips. Once he’s downed a few sips, he feels a little more ready to meet each of the important-looking people around him. 

“So,” Freya says, “Should we knock out the mandatory conversation with the king first?”

Merlin had been hoping to start with some rich old man with no political status whatsoever. Or at least wait until he’s had a bit more to drink before meeting the man who literally rules his life. He quickly glances over towards the opposite side of the room, where he can see a few dozen people milling around in a defined clump. He can only assume that’s where the royal family is, judging from the apparent squander to get inside. 

“Perhaps we should wait?” Merlin tries. “It looks like there’s a lot of people.”

Freya nods. “Yeah, but wouldn’t you rather get it over with? Then everyone after that doesn’t seem as scary.” 

She has a fair point, Merlin must apprehensively agree. “Fine. Lead the way.” 

The pair are stopped several times on their way across the hall, but none of them are Nick. Merlin secretly has been hoping that he’d run into the man on his way and therefore abandon the mission to meet the royal family; however, that doesn’t happen. Men and women tell him how graceful he was, how he seemed to truly encompass the role of swan prince. They shower him in compliments that make him smile, which in turn slows his anxiety a bit.

However, when the pair approach the outer circle of people surrounding the family, Merlin’s heart goes into doubletime. He casts a panicked look over to Freya, who returns it with a reassuring smile before taking a step forward. 

A handsome - yet vaguely familiar - man steps in front of the two before they can start to push through. His hair is dark with a neatly maintained beard, dressed in the outfit matching those of other court members. “You were the performers, yeah?”

“Yes,” Freya says. “Merlin Emrys, Freya Sauer. We were asked to introduce ourselves to his majesty and family.” She flashes the man a winning smile, as if they were commanded by their director to woo the king. 

“Course,” the man replies. His eyes meet Merlin’s, and now he’s is certain he’s seen the man before. He can’t put his finger on it, though. 

The dancers follow the man through the people and into a smaller inner circle. Merlin feels Freya give his hand a quick squeeze before drops her arms back to her sides. His small shred of security is ripped from him in an instant. 

The dark-haired man stops and gestures for the pair to stop as well. He places his hand on the back of a chair and leans down to say something into it’s occupant’s ear. This second man stands, patting the arm of the gentleman beside him, and turns toward the two dancers. 

This man has to the be the king. His hair is graying, yet his face shows only a few signs of his age. He stands tall, full of confidence and command, and is dressed in a fine tuxedo worth probably five times that of Merlin’s. King Uther doesn’t smile when they are thrust into his company. That makes being in his presence all the more terrifying. 

“Your majesty, this is Merlin Emrys,” the dark-haired man says, snapping Merlin from his trance. “And Freya Sauer. They were the swan princess and prince.”

Freya curtsies, and Merlin quickly bows his head to show the same respect. 

“Pleasure,” Uther replies, voice utterly indifferent. He doesn’t seem too interested or concerned with conversing with the two. He offers them a weak smile before turning back to his previous conversation.

Sensing this, the man moves on to gesture towards a second person. When Merlin looks up, his heart skips a beat. The same height, the same facial features as Nick - the only difference is the hair and eye color. It can’t be true - this can’t be what Nick meant. 

“Prince Arthur, this is Merlin Emrys and Freya Sauer - “

Prince Arthur holds out his hand to Freya, who hesitantly shakes it. Arthur brings the hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “Pleasure to meet you. Your performance was outstanding.”

Freya blushes. 

And then Arthur turns. He extends his hand to Merlin, who looks at it briefly before placing his hand in the man’s. Arthur catches Merlin’s eye and offers a small half smile - akin to that which Nick had flashed a few times on their date. 

“Mr. Emrys,” Arthur says a smooth, level voice. “I’m happy to meet your acquaintance.” 

Merlin meets Arthur’s eye and tries to maintain his composure. Without uttering a word in response, Merlin nods quickly and drops the prince’s hand. From the side of his mouth, he whispers, “Let’s go, Freya,” before turning on his heels. 

He’s only vaguely aware that Freya is trailing frantically behind him. And five minutes later, he’s retching over the toilet in an attempt to relieve his anxiety. (Funny how that works sometimes, how getting sick leads to stop feeling sick.) 

Nick is Prince Arthur.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, Arthur is perched on the balcony of the hall with a cigarette between his lips. He slowly inhales to savor the rush of nicotine and watches the smoke curl from his lips as he exhales. It’s strangely peaceful watching the city below him. 

He hates how he handled meeting Merlin as himself. He hates how he saw the betrayal in Merlin’s eyes. He hates how he’s ruined his first (and likely, only) chance of true love. He should’ve warned him. 

“My lord,” Leon calls from behind him. “People are looking for you.” 

“Give me a few minutes,” Arthur replies and listens to Leon’s footsteps retreat. He takes a long, final drag from his cigarette to relish in another second of freedom. A quick check to his watch shows that he still has an hour before he’s permitted to leave, and then there’s still at least another hour before he can slip back out again. If he can steal a minute or two locked into the bathroom, he can at least down a few shots from the flask tucked into his pocket. He’d also been eying Merlin’s little friend from afar. Any chance he could convince her to sneak away?

And suddenly, he hears the door open behind him followed by a few light steps. 

“I told you to give me a minute.” Arthur turns around with the still lit cigarette perched precariously between his lips.

Merlin stands before him, looking every bit as pissed as he has a right to be and a bit green around the edges. “The huge lad by the door let me through. Seems he recognized me from somewhere.”

“Percy?” Arthur replies, taking the cigarette from his mouth and stubbing it out on the concrete. Merlin really shouldn’t be out here alone with Arthur, lest Uther see. “He’s a hopeless romantic.” 

“Why?”

Arthur shrugs. “I guess everyone has their vices - “

Merlin takes a defiant step forward. “No. Why did you hide this from me?”

With his hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders rolled back, Arthur calmly says, “Leon? Percy? Come here please?”

The two man come out onto the balcony and stand at a respectful distance from the prince and Merlin. However, Arthur beckons them closer and Merlin stiffens, clearly uncomfortable. The man’s eyes dart nervously from man to man. This would be all the fuel his father would need to keep bullying Arthur into hetersexual marriage. 

Arthur places his hand on Percy’s shoulder in a false act of camaraderie. With a laugh and a smile, he says to Merlin, “When I said I don’t do relationships, I meant I don’t do gay relationships. Which is why you should turn around, walk back through those doors, and pretend you didn’t just try to discuss personal matters with the prince.” 

Hurt and embarrassment flashes upon Merlin’s face. The little color left drains from his complexion, but he has enough gall to say, “I wasn’t trying to discuss personal matters with the prince. I tried to discuss personal matters with Nick, the man I actually was starting to feel something for, and not this ass in front of me.”

“Oh, look at this big man,” Arthur chuckles, dropping his hands back to his sides. “He thinks he can speak to me like that.” 

Merlin seems to gain a small sense of confidence, meeting Arthur’s eyes, and says, “What are you going to do about it?”

Arthur takes a step forward so he’s only a few inches before Merlin. “What am I going to do about it? Next time I get you alone, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.

Merlin’s breath hitches. “Oh, are you? What makes you think that’s going to happen?”

In a low, deep voice, Arthur replies, “Because I’m the prince of Camelot, and I always get what I fucking want.” 

And with that, Arthur pushes past Merlin - lightly brushing his hand against the man’s arse - and back into the party. He’s careful not to look back.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But as luck may have it, Arthur walks into the men’s restroom forty minutes later unaccompanied except for Leon, who waits outside. He fishes out his refilled flask from his breast pocket and takes a long gulp. The alcohol washes over him instantly in a way the champagne hasn’t. He leans his back against the wall as he chugs the rest of the small bottle. His mind slows. 

“Fancy seeing you in here,” a voice calls from the sinks. Arthur glances over and is only somewhat surprised to find Merlin, perched on the countertop with a battered book in his hand. 

Arthur puts away the flask and takes a step forward. “That makes one of us. I thought you’d have left by now.”

“Freya ran off with some bloke, let me to fend for myself until she returns. Not enjoying the party yourself?” Merlin asks as he closes the book. “I figured this would be right up your alley. Lots of alcohol and plenty of men to seduce.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “You will not speak to me like that. I am your prince.”

“Again I ask,” Merlin slowly begins, “What are you going to do about that?”

“What am I going to do about it?” Arthur retorts. He crosses the small gap between himself and Merlin so that his thighs almost brush against Merlin’s knees. He has to look up to look into Merlin’s eyes, which leaves him feeling a little vulnerable. “You’re going to either suck my cock or let me fuck you over this countertop.”

Merlin pretends to ponder for a second. “I’m going to chose the third option. The one where you tell me what the fuck is going on and why you hid this from me.” 

“I don’t think that was a choice.”

“It is now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do.”

Arthur plunges forward and kisses Merlin square on the mouth. To his astonishment, Merlin throws his arms around Arthur’s neck and pulls him close, spreading his legs so Arthur can slide his body between them. The kisses deepens as they tilt their heads and open their mouths. Like their first kisses, this one leaves Arthur wanting something more and feeling something different in his stomach. He pulls back slightly and whispers, “My father wants me to marry a women within the next year to carry the bloodline.”

Merlin doesn’t more, scarcely breathes, before saying, “But you’re gay, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“And you’re afraid of standing up to him?”

Arthur straightens back up so that he can look into Merlin’s eyes as he says, “I’m more afraid of letting my kingdom down. My responsibility is to provide a future for my people, and part of that is supplying an heir.”

Merlin bites his lip. “You have to choose between your people and your happiness. I can’t imagine it.”

Arthur shakes his head. He can’t bear to think he’ll spend the rest of his years unhappily married just to provide a single male child for the throne. Reluctantly, Arthur says, “I’ve never met anyone like you -”

The door suddenly opens, and Arthur suddenly jumps back away from Merlin. He is slightly relieved when he sees it’s only Leon coming in to see what’s taking Arthur so long. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he calls over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with Merlin. 

When Leon leaves, Arthur places a hand on Merlin’s knee. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about us, but I do know that this can’t proceed openly.”

Merlin nods and looks away. “I understand.”

“Does this mean you’re not completely infuriated at me?” Arthur asks, gesturing between the two of them. 

Merlin elicits a small laugh. “Oh, I’m plenty mad. I’m just a little more willing to work with you on this than I was an hour ago.”

“I’ll text you when I can,” Arthur says. “I can’t tell you I’ll be able to see you -”

Leon pokes his head back into the restroom. “Arthur, now. Your father -”

“I said I’ll be out in a minute!” Arthur practically yells. He doesn’t need a handler. With more passion than he’s ever felt before, Arthur kisses Merlin again. The men clutch each other with every ounce of strength they have, mouths hungrily moving against one another. 

When they break, Merlin whispers, “We’ll figure this shit out.”

“I promise,” Arthur breathlessly says. He presses his mouth to Merlin’s one last time.

And that’s when Uther pushes past Leon and sees his only son kissing a man.


	4. Chapter 4

When they break, Merlin whispers, “We’ll figure this shit out.”

“I promise,” Arthur breathlessly says. He presses his mouth to Merlin’s one last time.

And that’s when Uther pushes past Leon and sees his only son kissing a man. 

Arthur jerks away from Merlin, who clumsily slides off the counter beside him. Uther does not say a word to either man, just meets his son’s eyes in an icy glare. It sends a chill down Arthur’s spine. Leon stands in the doorway, just behind the king, and looks utterly terrified. He can see Elyan hovering just outside as well, signaling to the onlookers to move past. 

“Father,” Arthur begins to say, eager to get Merlin out of the bathroom before the king sentences him with treason. He anxiously rubs his face and glances at Merlin briefly before turning his gaze back to his father. Merlin has gone pale as snow. 

Uther holds up a hand to stop his son from speaking. He shakes his head, chuckling a little to himself. “I thought better of you, Arthur. I’d hoped you’d keep your… obscene preferences private.” 

Obscene preferences. That hurts. Merlin winces beside him at the harshness of that statement and Arthur breaks eye contact with his father to blink away emotion. He’d always known that Uther didn’t approve of his sexuality, but having his father call him that hurts on a deep, new level. He’d always thought that a parent’s love for their child is unconditional. Apparently not if they’re gay and you need to produce an heir, in Uther’s case. 

“We will discuss this in private later, Arthur,” Uther cooly continues. His eyes flick over to Merlin, who stiffens. Arthur can physically feel the fear radiating from the dancer. To the other man, Uther says, “And for you, I don’t want to see or hear that you have been near my son again. I will make sure your career ends if as much as a whisper of a rumour reaches my ears.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin chokes out and visibly begins to shake. Arthur can hear his breathing pick up, and he wants nothing more than to punch his father. Merlin shouldn’t be punished for something that he had no part in. It was Arthur who was sneaking around, not Merlin. 

To try and set an example for his friend to follow and get them out of this situation, Arthur rolls back his shoulders, regains his composure, and tries to take over the conversation with, “Father, we will speak about this later. I think we should rejoin the party, don’t you?”

Uther shakes his head. “You and I will be rejoining the party. Leon will arrange a car for your little plaything.” 

Arthur glances over at Merlin nervously. The man looks petrified, pale, and like he’s about to be sick. His eyes stare straight ahead at the wall just over Uther’s head. In a second of deliberation, Arthur decides he’d better side with his father and quickly remove Merlin from this situation before he pukes all over himself (he’s going a bit green around the edges). Swiftly, Arthur smoothes out the creases in his slacks and jacket, straightens his tie, and pushes his hair off his forehead. “Yes, sire.”

He takes a step forward, motioning towards the door, and waits for Uther to turn to leave. After the king has taken two steps towards the door and away from the two other men, Arthur whispers, “Leon will take you home. I’ll text you later tonight.”

Merlin nods but can’t bring himself to look at Arthur, staring at the wall across the room. He braces his body against the porcelain sink basin as he recovers his breathing. The prince leaves the bathroom feeling weak and pathetic. He forces a dazzling fake smile on his face and welcomes the attention from the gathering crowd of people. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hours later...

Arthur: Merlin, I’m so sorry.

Merlin: I don’t think we should see each other.

Arthur: What? Seriously?  
Arthur: I feel like we literally go through this same argument every time I see you.   
Arthur: First it was because I didn’t want anything serious, then it was because you found out that I’m actually me. Now it’s because my father caught us kissing? What will it be next? 

Merlin: Your father made it perfectly clear that if I see you again, I will lose my job and I’ll have to go back to Ealdor with my mum. That’s plenty to put me off seeing you. 

Arthur: I didn’t know you were foreign. 

Merlin: You didn’t ask.   
Merlin: Please don’t contact me again. We both know it’s for the better.

Arthur: Just hours ago, you said you had started to feel something for me.

Merlin: I told you that I started to feel something for Nick.   
Merlin: Arthur is a pompous prat who lied to me. I got too wrapped up tonight in the idea that you were Nick, just in a more sparkling package.   
Merlin: I was wrong. 

Arthur: Can we talk?

Merlin: No. I’m done. I’ve worked too hard on my career to have it jeopardized by a horny asshole. BTW - Smoking will kill you.   
Merlin: Enjoy lung cancer. 

Arthur: Thanks. It’ll be a more enjoyable experience than having sex with you.

Merlin: And there we go with the sex again, which we had once. 

Arthur: And like I said, lung cancer will be a more enjoyable experience. 

Merlin: Fuck you. 

Arthur: Sorry, Lady Vivian already did. Just finished about thirty minutes ago. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks later...

Merlin: Convince me that I should risk everything just to fuck the prince of Camelot. 

Arthur: Oh, you’re speaking to me again? 

Merlin: Texting, actually. 

Arthur: Don’t be cheeky.   
Arthur: Let’s talk.

Merlin: I’m dancing at the palace tonight for Morgana’s birthday. Find a way for us to be alone. 

Arthur: Consider it done. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

One, two, three, jump. Spin, two, land, three. 

Fall. 

Merlin quickly catches himself before he hits the ground, but isn’t quick enough to fall back in step with his partner. He bends over with his hands on his knees, panting slightly. 

“Merlin!” the director shouts as he briskly walks over. Freya has paused beside him, chest rising and falling from exertion. She places a gentle hand on his arm as the director scolds, “What the hell is with you?”

He’s stumbled three times today. That’s three more than usual. Each day this week he’s tripped over his own feet. His mind is too cluttered and slow to keep up with the pace of rehearsal. His legs don’t obey his command and his arms don’t understand balance. It’s an embarrassing mess. With every fumble, his anxiety picks up and makes it that much harder to concentrate. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles while avoiding the director’s gaze. 

The director shakes his head, exasperated. “You aren’t normally like this. I want to assume it’s been a hard few days, but I can’t tell anymore.”

Merlin nods. “I’ll get it this time.” He swears it, begs and prays for it. His mind remains a clouded mess. He and Freya reset and wait for the count off. 

One, two, three. 

He doesn’t fall this time, but his heart isn’t into it anymore. The motions are fluid, graceful, perfect, but lack feeling and emotion. His body betrays him again when he strains his shoulder catching Freya, and his pride keeps him from stopping the dance. Luckily, nobody has noticed and he’s still in time with the count. The muscle is pulled tighter and tighter into an unrelentless pinch as he continues to dance. He’s scared. 

Deep down, he knows that he really shouldn’t be meeting Arthur tonight. He knows that Uther will find out, and he knows that he will be fired from the dance company. Why, exactly, he’s risking everything is a mystery to him. For now, all he feels is terror mixed with a longing to be loved that he refuses to admit to. 

At the end of the rehearsal, Merlin is massaging his shoulder with the heel of his hand as a desperate way to be rid of the pain. The hot water in the shower doesn’t help, neither does the ice carefully applied by medics. Several people shoot him worried looks; an injury not cured by cold or heat is often a serious one. He pretends not to be outwardly concerned, lest he jeopardize his role as lead or be asked to sit out tonight. 

Merlin tries to keep the thought of serious injuries out of his mind. He can’t afford expensive treatments or surgery. Against his better judgement, he decides that he’ll treat the injury at home with his mum’s various herbal remedies later that night. They’ve never failed him in the past, after all. He slings his dance bag over his good shoulder, sure to grab his costume and the appropriate makeup for later, and hurries out the door towards the sleek, black car waiting to take him to the palace. 

The castle is breathtaking. The white stone looks polished and regal with splotches of color various plants and flowers. Bright green vines climb up the gate, dusted with delicate pink buds, while white estate looks over the bluest lake Merlin has ever seen. Its immaculately manicured lawns are straight out of storybooks. Its picturesque exterior is no doubt mirrored on the inside. 

The car comes to a stop inside a warehouse-sized garage. Rows of shiny black cars fill the space, and along the back Merlin recognizes the car Arthur had driven him in on their first (and only) date. He quickly glances away from it to avoid any lingering feelings for the prince. A man, Gwaine, opens the door for Merlin to climb out. The gentleman offers Merlin a small, polite smile as exits the car. Freya climbs out after him and giggles at the flirtatious greeting Gwaine offers her. Merlin can’t blame her; Gwaine is just as nice to look at as Arthur. 

Merlin stiffens his posture as the trio walks towards the looming main palace. He keeps his gaze planted forward to avoid making eye contact with anyone passing by. Each step brings a new level of anxiety, which causes him to break out in a cold sweat. Discreetly, Merlin wipes a hand across his forehead to try and curb the shininess; on the withdraw, he notices his hand is shaking. He is vaguely aware of the small talk Gwaine is having with Freya and more aware that Uther is probably watching him through security cameras. 

Gwaine swipes an ID card at a sensor beside a heavy looking door. He opens it for the pair of dancers, waving them inside. Freya thanks him, Merlin nods. The inside of the entryway is far more glamorous as Merlin had expected, what with several beautiful rugs, a few opulent chairs, and a dark wood desk where security monitor the cameras. The security men wave a hello to Gwaine as the group passes the desk. A quick glance at the cameras show Merlin that the palace is even bigger than he possibly could have guessed, even if only a fraction of the castle is shown currently on the cameras. He’s tempted to see if he can spot Arthur. 

Suddenly, Gwaine’s phone rings. He grabs it quickly and answers with a curt, “Yes, your highness?” A few more ‘yeses’ and a ‘quit worrying, your prattliness’ later, the phone is stowed back into the pocket. Gwaine glances quickly over his shoulder at Merlin before continuing on their path. Merlin has a feeling he knows who was on the other side and what - or who - they were talking about. 

Gwaine shows them to the small dressing rooms just across from the banquet hall, passing the infamous bathroom on the way. Merlin and Gwaine both share a loaded glance. The dancers depart to prepare for the performance alone. Merlin’s scared shittless, and not because he’s afraid he’ll forget the choreo or further hurt himself. This event is to celebrate princess Morgana’s birthday, a small gathering of only the family and their closest friends. Max twenty people. He’s terrified to face Uther again, to see Arthur and risk it all. 

However, more than a small part of him is looking forward to seeing the prince again. 

As expected, the dance is perfect. Both Freya and Merlin are perfectly in count with the music and each other, looking absolutely stunning at the same time. It receives many rounds of applause at the conclusion. Merlin doesn’t dare directly look at Arthur or Uther directly, but he secretly loves the look of Arthur wearing his ornate crown and dark suit from his peripheral vision. He never imagined how fucking sexy a man with power actually is. 

He and Freya take their bows and then walk off, out of the room. They hug and congratulate each other on another flawless performance before departing off into their separate dressing rooms. Once the door is closed, Merlin begins to vigorously massage his shoulder. It’s aching worse than before, with a sharp pain in every movement. Before he has a chance to apply any of the homemade, herbal salve he usually uses, the door to the dressing room (really a closet with a chair, desk, and mirror) opens. 

Merlin jumps back, surprised. He drops the salve to the floor. “Excuse -“ 

Arthur quickly shuts the door after entering. He looks every bit the part of prince - dressed lavishly, perfect posture. His suit is sleek and black with a deep red tie around his neck. His skin glows with more than just alcohol. Without a word in greeting, he grabs the back of Merlin’s head and pushes their mouths together. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss. 

Faintly, Merlin can smell the champagne on Arthur mixing with stench of cigarette smoke. He throws his arms around Arthur’s neck tightly as the other man hoists him up and back. Merlin wraps his long, tight-clad legs around Arthur’s waist and allows himself to be pressed up against the wall. 

Arthur breaks the kiss and begins to mouth his way down Merlin’s neck. The cold metal of his crown digs into the fragile skin there, reminding Merlin that he’s actually being kissed by royalty. He’s snapped out of this thought when his shoulder spikes in pain again when Arthur abruptly forces Merlin’s head to tilt. It’s soon followed by a very hard bite to the underside of his jaw. He moans in pleasure, outshining any pain, and grabs fistfuls of Arthur’s hair. “Fuck.” 

“I’ve wanted you from the second you walked out,” Arthur says, voice muffled from Merlin’s neck. “You look so fucking hot all dressed up. Showing your body off for me.” He punctuates that statement with another hard bite. 

Merlin jerks his hips so that his cock presses up against Arthur’s. “Shit, I’ve wanted you the second I walked out.” 

Arthur starts to grind his hips into Merlin. A hot friction begins to build up as they rub. “You like knowing you’re fucking the prince?” 

“Yes,” Merlin moans. 

Exhibiting an immense amount of strength, Arthur carries Merlin over to the small ledge just underneath the mirror. The prince steps back and starts to undo the fly of his pants and shrugs off his suit jacket. He loosens his tie as he eyes Merlin up and down. “I’ve been thinking all day about how I’m going to take you.” 

Merlin swallows. He slides off the ledge and yanks down his tights and underwear so that he takes naked from the waist down. Feeling incredibly turned on and sexy, he turns around and leans forward, his ass in the air and ready for Arthur. He turns and winks at the prince. “Take me, then.”

Arthur’s eyes darken with lust. He takes his tie and lets it hang loosely from his fingertips, toying with it. “I think I will,” he says in a deep, rough voice. The man grabs Merlin’s wrists, forcing the other forward so that his face is pressed up against the glass of the mirror. “Let me just take care of this first.” 

The tie binds Merlin’s wrists together at the small of his back. It’s tight, cutting into his skin, and the motion sets his shoulder aflame. He doesn’t visibly wince, but he grimaces slightly to himself. Once secure, Arthur gives it a good, hard pull and forces Merlin to arch his back. Merlin shouts from pain, but Arthur seems to have taken it for pleasure. “That’s a good boy, Merlin.” Arthur spanks him across the ass so hard that he’s certain there will be a bruise. 

Just as the pain disappears, Merlin feels the stretch inflicted by Arthur’s finger inside of him. He moans and voluntarily arches into the touch. Seconds later, it’s joined by a second finger. Merlin feels overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

Arthur roughly pushes Merlin back down, face against the mirror and ass sticking out. Again, a flash of hot pain in his shoulder. He hears the tear of a condom and the rustle as Arthur rolls it onto himself. With another slap to his flesh, Arthur pushes inside of him. 

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes. “Fuck, I’ve needed this.” He gives Merlin the small courtesy of allowing him a few seconds to adjust to the intrusion. His hands are clasped at the bend of Merlin’s hips to hold him in place. 

Merlin snorts. “You needed an ass to stick your cock in? I’m sure -” 

A flash of delicious pain is sent through his body as Arthur spanks him again. “You will not talk back to me.” 

Merlin struggles against his bindings to swipe at Arthur but is cut short when Arthur begins to thrust. It feels unlike anything Merlin has ever felt before, full of pleasure with pain. Begins to move his hips back to meet Arthur’s. The air is filled with Merlin’s desperate moans and Arthur’s heavy breathing. 

“Shit,” Arthur groans, and Merlin knows his blowing his load. The thrusting picks up, slamming him into the mirror before coming to a stop. Arthur bends forward to prop himself up with his hands against the mirror. Rather affectionately, Arthur places a kiss to the back of Merlin’s neck before resting his forehead. 

Merlin clears his throat. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I didn’t come yet.”

Arthur chuckles, still resting on Merlin. “I noticed.” 

“Are you going to…”

“Say please.”

“Please, Arthur.” 

Suddenly, the tie is released from around Merlin’s wrists. Arthur withdraws from inside Merlin, rips off the condom, and drops to his knees. Merlin turns around and grabs Arthur by the hair. The prince raises his eyebrows but takes Merlin whole regardless. Arthur deep throats him until Merlin’s breathing picks up. With a shudder, he comes into Arthur’s mouth and watches the prince swallow it down. It’s unbelievably hot. 

Arthur stands, smirking and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He presses another kiss to Merlin’s mouth, gentler this time. “Let’s get dressed and then we can talk. Quickly though, I know Uther is probably wondering where I am.”

Merlin nods and scrambles to grab his clean clothes from his backpack. He doesn’t fancy running around in his dance clothes much longer. Arthur hikes up his trousers and does his belt. The man glances into the now spotty mirror and adjusts the crown on his head. Merlin bites his lip and smiles, enjoying the sight. 

“So,” Arthur begins, clasping his hands. “I think we’ve come to the conclusion that we like fucking each other.”

Merlin snorts. “To put it bluntly.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I want to be with you, Merlin. Sexually, and emotionally.”

Merlin crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling very insecure about himself. “You need to convince me. There’s so much at stake.”

What Arthur does next, surprises Merlin. The prince drops to his knees before the other and takes his hands. “Merlin,” Arthur begins. “I know it’s been only a few months since we first met, but these months have been the best I’ve had. I loved staying up until past midnight texting you, and our first date - damn. I wish we could do that every night.” He nervously chuckles.

He continues with, “I lied to you about who I am, and I understand that you’re still upset about that. I would too. But I want you to trust me when I say that I only did it so you wouldn’t get wrapped up in this mess with me. I thought I could keep you hidden from my father, just like I’ve done with the dozens of lovers I’ve taken.” When Merlin winces, Arthur scoffs, “Come on, you seriously couldn’t have thought that I’d be an innocent virgin.” 

“But dozens -”

Arthur shakes his head. “That’s besides the point. I’ve been tested for every STD in the book multiple times.”

Merlin snaps back with, “I fucking hope so.” 

Clearing his throat, Arthur continues with his little speech. “Anyways, I just want you to know that I’m sorry for lying, and that I want to keep seeing you because you’re different. I get butterflies when I see you, and I would like to get to know you more. As we talked about that night at the banquet, it’ll be hard. We’ll have to sneak around. But I know that we can do it.”

“And if Uther finds out?” It’s the most pressing worry in Merlin’s mind. 

In a confident, the prince explains, “If Uther finds out, I will do everything in my power to make sure that nothing happens to you. I will take the blame and punishment.”

Merlin bites his lip. He doesn’t know if it’s worth the risk. But like Arthur, he feels something between the two of them. It gives him butterflies just thinking about seeing the man, and he wants nothing more than to try. It’s just so terrifying and anxiety-inducing to think about the consequences. The decision is overwhelming to make. He pulls Arthur back up to standing. “I want to believe you. I’m just not sure that I trust that Uther won’t end my career or deport me or arrest me for being with you.”

Arthur nods. “I understand that, but I just need you to believe me when I say that I won’t let that happen.” 

“I guess I have to.” Then, Merlin embraces Arthur and kisses him passionately. All seems well. 

At least, all is well until Arthur leaves the room. Outside, he can hear the prince arguing with someone about privacy and natural rights.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur’s father’s equerry had discovered him coming out of Merlin’s dressing room and promptly told the king. Uther refuses to let his son out of the view of the security cameras, threatened his men with treason for aiding Arthur out of the castle, and forbidden Arthur to ever see Merlin again. There’s even a new camera installed in his own bedroom; privacy is a luxury of the past. He doesn’t even dare pull out his second cell phone to text Merlin. As a result, the two haven’t communicated since the incident a few days ago. 

These precautions have done little to keep Arthur from indulging in other areas. He’s still smoking a pack a day, drinking more bottles of beer than he can count, and occasionally having someone sneak him in some cocaine or some other stimulant. He’s slept with two of the maids and one of Morgana’s ladies, not caring about the consequences or that his father will inevitably see his son in bed. His only rule is to stay away from men, lest Uther get any ideas. The prince has fallen back into his dangerous ways. 

Arthur currently stands in the small room off to his bedroom with a brush in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He layers paint over a canvas in careful strokes to achieve the perfect, layered look. He has a custom order on his Etsy shop that he’s trying to fill, and it’s working well to fill his pockets with spending money and his mind with distraction. At least, until Uther decides to deprive Arthur of literally the only thing he has left. During the long hours of painting (and inhaling the fumes), he imagines that he’s a painter in Soho rather than a prince in Camelot. He pretends that he’s married to a handsome man, and they have two kids running around. It’s a small escape from his dreadful reality. 

“Arthur?” Percy calls from the adjoining room. Arthur is snapped back to the present. 

The prince drops his brush into water and stubs out his cigarette. As the other man enters the room, Arthur is wiping the paint off his hands and preparing to change out of his painting clothes. The bright splatters will not be well received in court. 

He knows exactly why Percy is here. Uther has requested a meeting with his son regarding his indiscretion. Arthur knew this was coming, and it’s delay until now is even more threatening. Something big is going to happen, something he knows he’s going to hate. 

Percy flashes him a sympathetic smile. “Looks good,” he says, motioning towards the canvas. 

“Thanks,” Arthur quickly replies. He walks into the main bedroom and over to his discarded clothes from earlier. He tugs on his button down, khakis, and toes into his leather shoes solemnly. A quick glance in the mirror shows the dark circles and the yellowish tinge to his skin from the late nights and nicotine. Pathetic. 

The walk to Uther’s office is quiet and tense. Percy knows something Arthur doesn’t and shys away from any conversation, not that Arthur wants to chat much. His hands sweat and heart pounds with every step. In his fear, he worries about Merlin. Uther wouldn’t hesitate to have him deported if he thought it threatened his kingdom. His first chance at love would be taken and destroyed with a stroke of a pen.

The deep reds and golds of Uther’s office used to bring warmth. However, now they bring the most intense anxiety that Arthur has ever felt. The sun coming in from the windows seems blinding, the guards at the door seem menacing, and the king himself looks like the devil. Uther stands when his son enters, looking as calm and collected as ever. He motions towards one of the two golden chairs before the desk.

“Arthur,” he greets. “Take a seat. I’d offer you a drink but you look like you’ve already had three.”

To be fair, Arthur had been drinking heavily a few hours before. He slowly sits into the chair and leans back, trying to seem relaxed. Percy starts to walk away, but a quick look from the prince sends him back to standing a few feet away. It makes Arthur feel safer knowing he has a friend nearby. 

Uther sits back behind the heavy, dark wood desk. He folds over his computer and pushes aside a few papers. His hands interlace as he looks at Arthur. “I’ve decided you are to be married.”

Of course. Arthur knew this was coming. His heart skips a beat and dread overcomes him. “I thought I got to decide that.”

Uther shakes his head. “You forfeited that when you decided to have an affair with a man.” 

“You knew I was having sex with men long before the incident,” Arthur counteracts. “Why take action now?”

“Why now?” Uther meets Arthur’s eyes in a chilling stare. “I’m not getting any younger, Arthur. There needs to be a blood heir to the throne in addition to you.”

Arthur scoffs. “This fucking shit again.”

Uther aburptly stands and angrily spits, “You will not use that language with me, Arthur.”

Arthur stands to meet his father. “Fuck you.”

Uther waves his hand. Guards step closer to Arthur, as if the threat of restraint. One reaches out and grabs Arthur’s wrist. When he jerks out of grasp, the other grabs Arthur’s arm and pins it behind his back. 

Slowly, the king walks around the desk. In a cool voice, he says, “I gave you many chances to do your duty, to marry royal blood and produce an heir. You have defied me too many times. In three months, you will marry Lady Sophia, a Sidhe princess.”

Arthur hasn’t heard of this Lady Sophia, so she must be from a family Uther wants to befriend. He isn’t sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse, but the call of a fertile womb is too strong. He knows deep down that it’s his duty to the people, and that must always come first. Pitifully, Arthur replies, “As you wish, sire.” 

Uther nods. “The engagement will be announced next week when Sophia and her family visit. I hope you will treat her with kindness and warmth.” 

“Yes,” Arthur replies while staring at the ground. “I’ll be sure not to be hungover either. If you’re lucky, I might not be high too.” He glances to his father just seconds before the guards jerk him away. 

Defeated, Arthur allows them to guide him back to his chambers. He knows it’s pointless to fight back. Uther always has the final say. When the door is closed and locked behind himself, Arthur sinks to the floor. He cries for the life he never got to have - a life of happiness and love.


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin’s alarm wakes him up at precisely 6:30AM, like always. Instead of reaching for his morning wood, per his usual routine, he reaches instead for his phone. He’s gotten into the nasty habit of sleeping with it tucked under his pillow waiting for a text that never comes. The empty inbox is like a slap in the face.

He’d thought he and Arthur had come to a decision about trying to see each other seriously. Once again, he feels foolish in trusting the man. Every time he thinks that Arthur might be like Nick - a caring and compassionate man - he is proven mistaken. Merlin’s such an idiot. The usual wave of anxiety starts spreading through his body, sending a child down his spine followed by a racing heartbeat and clammy skin. Merlin sits up and throws the blankets off of his bow boiling body.

With his head in his hands, he tries to work on the breathing exercises that his mum taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth, with each motion lasting exactly five counts. It takes him three minutes to calm down. By that time, he’s running behind his usual schedule and beings to panic about that too. Everything is too much for him to handle. In his haste to get to the bathroom, he knocks his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. The pain is crippling, but he refuses to see a doctor. Too expensive. It’ll heal on its own. 

He flicks on the news as he enters the kitchen after rushing through a shower. He even skipped shaving, a large taboo in the dance company, for the second time that week. His mum bids him hello and passes him a plate of breakfast along with some more of the salve for his shoulder. Quietly, he eats his breakfast and sips his coffee. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Oh look,” Hunith suddenly says. When Merlin looks up, she gestures towards the TV. 

It’s Arthur, looking as handsome as ever, but with a slight waver in his step and a hint of redness to his eyes. Definitely drunk or high. His suit is immaculately pressed and crown glimmering on his head. Uther stands beside the prince flanked by the breathtakingly gorgeous Morgana. The royal family is the pinnacle of beauty and wealth, They stand on a balcony overlooking the main courtyard, where dozens of reporters and citizens are packed together. It appears to be some kind of special event, but Merlin has never paid enough attention to politics to be sure. 

Arthur steps forward and gestures for the people to quiet down. He looks nervous, eyes darting everywhere. “Thank you all for being here on this momentous day,” the prince begins. “On behalf of my father, King Uther Pendragon, I would like to announce my engagement to Princess Sophia of Sidhe.” His voice is stale and emotionless. 

A beautiful, yet very young, woman steps into shot and takes Arthur’s hand. The prince does not smile as the crowd roars. 

Merlin grabs the remote and abruptly turns off the television. He can’t help but begin to sob into his palms. The man can’t believe it. Arthur had gone and proposed to a woman a week after professing that he was feeling something for Merlin. Was he really that bad? What did he do to deserve to be discarded like a piece of trash? Not a single message of explanation or goodbye? 

Hunith, completely unaware of her son’s involvement with the prince, immediately tries to comfort her son. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, gentle not to knock the bad one, and kisses his head. In her kind and sweet voice, she whispers, “Honey, it’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s okay.”

Merlin can’t bring himself to speak, mostly because he’s started to feel his body go into flight or fight. His breakfast starts to unsettle in his stomach and his head begins to pound. Breathing becomes difficult. Everything is too much to handle. Hunith holds him tightly until he’s able to control his breathing again and is able to go upstairs to bed.

For the first time in his career, Merlin calls out of work. He doesn’t stretch, he doesn't even get out of bed for the rest of the day.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By some miracle, Merlin is able to pull himself together enough to go to rehearsal the next day. Everyone is talking about the engagement, how lucky Sophia is to get to marry such a handsome man. Merlin barely acknowledges anyone who asks him about the news and immediately walks away with an urgent excuse. 

Merlin pushes his body to the limit during the practices, which strains his shoulder to the point of no return. He’s never felt such pain in his life. Somehow, it feels good. It feels like something he deserves for being so stupid about Arthur. He welcomes the sharp burning with open arms. He is perfection, art in motion, and flawless. The director compliments him and congratulates him on his hard work, especially after the shitty spell he’d been going through.

The end of rehearsal can’t come fast enough. As soon as the last routine finishes, Merlin is off stage and quickly making his way back to the dressing rooms. He wants a hot shower, some warm food, and his soft bed more than anything right now. The pain had given him a brief distraction, and now he’s anxious for another - sleep. He turns the corner and nearly falls over a package sitting at the base of his door. Merlin’s heart skips a beat.

Merlin grabs the package hastily. It’s about as long as a loaf of bread and as thick as the short side of a brick. Heavy too. He waits until the door is safely closed behind him before tearing through the box. A note sits on the top of the contents, written in slanted handwriting. 

M,

I promise to explain everything soon. 

A 

Sweet relief pours through his veins. Merlin smiles for the first time in a week. After putting the note inside, he pulls out a perfectly preserved copy of Pride and Prejudice. It’s a first edition, and the book he’d been reading on the bus the first time he met Arthur. The gift costs thousands, easy, but the gesture Arthur made is priceless and meaningful. Despite that, Merlin can’t bring himself to trust that he’ll see Arthur ever again. He’s been let down too many times. He carefully stows the book into his pack, along with the note, and begins cleaning himself up to leave. If anything, the book would be good to pawn off when money is short. 

On the bus, he is surrounded by mutterings of middle-aged women gossiping about Arthur, predicting how quickly Sophia will become pregnant, and how lavish the wedding will be. A few seem certain they’ll be receiving an invitation. Merlin hopes he doesn’t find one in the mail. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to attend. Instead, he carefully takes out the book and begins to read. 

The days pass after slowly by, where Merlin returns back to his painful existence as a lonely, pathetic man holding onto a sliver of hope. He keeps the note folded in his wallet as a reminder and reads Pride and Prejudice in every available moment. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the tenth night after the engagement announcement and when Merlin received the note, a sharp knocking interrupts dinner. Hunith excuses herself to answer the door, and Merlin stands in the doorway overlooking. They don’t typically have visitors this late, and he fears the worst. They don’t exactly live in the best part of town.

Hunith unlocks the door and opens it a crack. Her gasp is audible enough that Merlin can clearly hear it from the other room. He immediately rushes forward to help his mother fend off any hooligans until a familiar voice speaks. 

“Ma’am,” Gwaine’s smooth voice says. “Can we please come in? He’s not exactly someone who should be standing out in the open.”

Hunith nods quickly and steps aside, visibly shaking. She’s babbling about something Merlin can’t understand, for his world has come to a complete stop. Arthur follows Gwaine into the room, a blue American baseball cap pulled low over his face. The color brings out the blue of his eyes. Arthur takes the hat off and smoothes his hair off his forehead before tucking it back on. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, much unlike anything he’s ever seen the prince in before, and reeks of cigarettes from across the room. He’s almost unrecognizable. 

Merlin crosses his arms over his chest. He will not let Arthur win again without a fight. His expression is stoic as he watches his mother stumble over her words. Arthur politely shakes Hunith’s hand and kisses it, making Hunith positively swoon. She offers the men food and drink, which both politely decline, before ushering Gwaine into a seat. When the prince turns his gaze to him, Merlin clenches his teeth and raises his chin. 

Hunith quickly exclaims, “Merlin, say hello the prince! Where are your manners?” 

Merlin laughs. “You should be asking him the same thing.” 

Arthur walks over to Merlin. He holds out his hands face up as a gesture of apology. “I’m so sorry. I know I -”

Merlin punches him, hard, on the arm. Arthur stumbles backwards, clearly surprised. He begins to rub his bicep Hunith gasps and immediately scolds her son for hitting the prince of Camelot.

“It’s fine, really,” Arthur chuckles, still massaging his arm. He weakly smiles at Merlin. “I guess I deserved that, huh?”

“You deserve much worse than that,” Merlin snaps. “You think it’s okay to tell me that you want me, then turn around and propose to someone else? Then promise to contact me, and then don’t?” He feels his eyes filling with emotion. He takes another swing at Arthur, which the prince expertly blocks. Arthur clasps Merlin’s fist in his palm and struggles to bring him into a hug. His shoulder flares. 

Merlin tries to push away from Arthur, muttering about how much of a prick, spoiled, and inconsiderate he is. All of his frustration and hurt is channeled into kicking Arthur’s shins and elbowing his stomach, relishing again in the pain of his shoulder. He deserves it. 

The prince lets Merlin abuse him as he struggles to pin Merlin’s hands together behind his back. Merlin finally gives in and allow Arthur’s strong arms to wrap around his own body. Arthur’s hand smoothly glides up his back to rest on the nape of Merlin’s neck, holding the other’s head in the crook of his neck. Merlin inhales the scent of smoke mixed with a smell that’s distinctly Arthur’s. The prince nuzzles at Merlin’s temple and lightly kisses it. 

He can’t be completely sure, but he thinks his mother might have fainted. Gwaine apparently rushes to her side and settles her in chair. For Hunith, this must the shock of a lifetime. Her son is romantically entangled with the engaged prince, in a country where homosexuality can be punished by prison. Merlin makes a mental note to explain all of the details to her later. 

Merlin rubs his face on Arthur’s shoulder to discreetly whisks away the tears that threatened to spill. “Why are you even here? To rub it in my face?”

“No, no,” Arthur quickly replies. The man tilts his head so that his cheek rests against Merlin’s. “I’m here to tell you that this is an arranged marriage. After Morgana’s birthday, he decided to arrange my marriage. I need to produce a legitimate heir, and I’ve made it clear to him that I want to be with a man.” Arthur nervously chuckles and slides his hands down Merlin’s back to rest just above his hips. “Can’t really have a biological kid when you’re gay. But it’s my duty to the people to give them a future king.” 

Merlin bites his lip. He’d known this was coming but had begged with the universe to delay it. The first man he ever feels something for is completely unattainable. “I understand, I guess,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Ask me why I’m here.” 

“Why are you here, Arthur,” Merlin deadpans and lifts his head to look Arthur in the eye. 

Arthur tries to kiss Merlin’s cheek, but the latter quickly jerks away. The prince clears his throat and says, “I’m taking you out. Go pack a bag for the night.”

Merlin blinks in surprise. He must have heard Arthur wrong. There’s no way that he can possibly be able to go anywhere with Arthur, not with the engagement and Uther’s threats. “In case you’ve forgotten, you’re engaged.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Arthur snaps and releases Merlin from his grasp. “I just thought that it might be nice to spend one night together before I’m sold off.” 

And so Merlin finds himself sitting in the back of a fancy car with Arthur. Gwaine and Percy are up front, bickering about some maid, and completely ignorant of the tension sitting between prince and his lover. Arthur had tried unsuccessfully to hold Merlin’s hand several times, tried to kiss him twice, and touched his ass once in the scant hour they’ve been together. Merlin isn’t quite ready to put everything behind himself and give into any pent up feelings. He mentally berates himself for allowing Arthur to hold him earlier, despite the warm and fuzzy feelings it brought. So he sits with his arms folded across his chest, eyes glued to the window.

“Where are we going?” he asks. For the first time during the whole car ride, he glances over at Arthur. 

Arthur tucks his phone back into his pocket, probably texting his fiance. “Home.” 

Merlin jerks his head and looks at Arthur. They couldn’t be going to the palace, not with the engagement announced and Uther in residence… That’s just asking for deportation. “No. We are not.”

“I want to treat you like a king. How it would be if we could be together,” Arthur begins, facing Merlin. “I want to lay in a hot bath with you pressed against my chest, sipping champagne. I want you to be the last person I see tonight and the first I see in the morning. I can’t give you the full Arthur Pendragon, prince of Camelot, experience without going to the palace.”

“I feel like I constantly have to ask about this, but what about your dad?” 

In the low light, Merlin can clearly make out Arthur shaking his head. “He’s away, visiting another kingdom for the night. Hence why I’m stealing you.” He takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and gestures towards Merlin. “Do you care if I smoke?” 

“Yes, actually.” Merlin swipes the box from Arthur and crushes it. He feels the cigarettes crumple before tossing it back to the prince. “You’re going to get fucking lung cancer.” 

Instead of getting upset, Arthur laughs as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “That’s the sassy Merlin I’ve been missing.” He grabs the front of Merlin’s shirt and yanks him close. 

“You’ve missed me?” Merlin retorts, leaving ever so slightly in towards Arthur. Maybe - just maybe - he’ll let the man kiss him. 

“More than you can imagine.” 

Just before Arthur’s mouth can meet Merlin’s, Gwaine calls his name from the front. Merlin jolts backwards in surprise. 

Arthur releases Merlin and straightens up. “What, Gwaine?” he snaps. 

Gwaine glances back in the mirror and chuckles after seeing Merlin’s rumpled shirt and Arthur half out of his seat. “Sorry Princess, didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Arthur dismisses the statement with a wave of his hand. “Well, you might as well continue. Moment’s already ruined.” 

Satisfied, Gwaine returns his gaze to the front. “Percy and I were wondering how Gwen was in bed, knowing that you -“ 

“Now is not the time!” Arthur snaps. He glances quickly over to Merlin, as if to gauge his reaction. “You fucking idiot, Gwaine.”

Merlin shakes his head. By now, he’s used to the idea of Arthur sleeping around. He hates it, of course, but he tolerates the thought for now. It’s not like they’ve decided on exclusivity. He tries not to let Arthur read his hurt by turning away to the window. 

Arthur places his hand on Merlin’s knee. “Merlin, that was -“ 

“I don’t want to hear about it, thanks.” Merlin pushes Arthur’s hand off. 

“When were you planning on telling me about your shoulder?” 

Merlin bites the inside of his cheek. He sweet, dear mother had been sure to press a vial of salve into his hand as he left. She even explained to Arthur that Merlin’s injured it weeks ago dancing. Merlin was mortified. He doesn’t need Arthur fretting about it. “Never, actually.”

Arthur sharply inhales. “You haven’t seen a doctor, have you?” 

Merlin glares out of the corner of his eye. “That’s none of your business.” 

“I care about you, and I don’t want you to be in pain,” Arthur retorts. “Besides, don’t you worry about making it worse? You need to have it treated!”

“It will heal on its own!” Merlin nearly shouts. “You don’t get to come back into my life after all you’ve done. I don’t need your help!”

Arthur turns to face Merlin. He reaches into the side pocket of the car, takes out a hidden pack of cigarettes, and lights up. Gwaine unrolls the window as if habit. “I am going to make an appointment with my physician next week. One of my men will escort you.”

The tone of Arthur’s voice is commanding enough that Merlin knows not to refuse. It’s an order. He merely shakes his head as a response. Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t say no to a fully qualified, court physician looking at his shoulder for free. It’s more the premise of the notion. Arthur doesn’t own him. 

The prince does not attempt to touch Merlin for the remainder of the car ride to the palace, nor make any conversation. He doesn’t even try to hold his hand as they depart from the expansive garage or place a hand onto his back to steer him through the darkness towards the security entrance. Merlin is adamant to hold his own ground. As they pass the security desk, Merlin tries not to think about the fact that he will be on tape, with Arthur, doing exactly as Uther forbid them from doing. 

They wind through countless corridors, up a few sets of stairs, and around a corner before Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, and Percy encounter the lovely Princess Morgana. She’s dressed in a simple outfit, hair tied up in bun, yet emanates a sinister vibe. She pauses and looks Merlin up and down, a small smirk played across her lips. Merlin has a feeling she’s not as kind and innocent as the media portrays her. 

“So,” she finally says after approaching. Her laugh sends a chill down Merlin’s spine. “You’ve decided to take your lover home, Arthur. Father won’t be too pleased.”

Arthur places a protective hand on the small of Merlin’s back. Out of fear and anxiety, Merlin allows him to keep it there. He can’t take his eyes from Morgana’s. Arthur replies, “He doesn’t have to know.” 

Morgana shakes her head, the smirk still across her lips. “He doesn’t have to know now, but I’m sure he’ll find out sooner rather than later.” She turns her icy gaze to Merlin. “And you better enjoy this while you can. I bet Uther won’t hesitate to jail you once he returns. Even Arthur can’t save you from that.” 

Arthur’s only reply is a “fuck off” and a tug on Merlin’s sleeve to move forward. In Merlin’s ear, he whispers, “Don’t listen to her.” 

Morgana chuckles to her. “How nice it is to be ignorant.” The princess gestures for her maid, a beautiful girl with caramel colored skin. The maid quickly rushes to her mistress’s side but glances quickly up to Arthur. Her eyes are clearly searching for any recognition or greeting. Arthur nods a hello and smiles. With that, Merlin knows that this maid must be Gwen - the one Arthur has apparently slept with not too long ago. Merlin automatically feels animosity towards her, but her sweet demeanor has him questioning it. 

Morgana confidently walks past the cohort of men while Gwen awkwardly shifts her weight from foot to foot before Arthur and Merlin. She says in a hushed voice, “Arthur, I need to talk to you.” Gwen glances to Merlin quickly. “In private.” 

Arthur hesitates. “Are you -?” 

Morgana calls for her maid. Gwen gives a curt nod before running down the hallway after her. The prince shakes his head, lip caught between his teeth, and looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll catch up with her later,” he says to nobody in particular. He continues walking while practically dragging Merlin along with him. 

At last, they reach Arthur’s chambers. Gwaine and Percy bid goodnight and promise to meet Merlin in the morning to drive him to work. Arthur takes Percy by the arm and whispers something to him, probably regarding the encounter with Gwen. Merlin pretends not to notice. 

Merlin is astonished at the opulence of Arthur’s rooms. Everything is so lush and expensive; he’s worried he’ll end up breaking something. He allows Arthur to show him around to each of his rooms - the living quarters, bathroom, huge closet, and finally the bedroom. Arthur skips over showing Merlin inside a mysterious room off to the side, merely dismissing the request with a wave of his hand. When the prince’s back is turned, Merlin tries the handle only to find it locked and smeared with paint. 

The remainder of this night will be forever one of Merlin’s fondest memories. Arthur drew them a hot bath, poured two glasses of the finest champagne, and shared secrets amongst the bubbles. It was in the bath that Merlin finally allowed Arthur to kiss him. 

They didn’t bother dressing after the water ran cold. The men curled up in Arthur’s giant bed, where the prince drank two beers and told Merlin all about his childhood growing up as royalty. There were parts that made Merlin tear up; he can’t imagine a life full of challenges and stresses that Arthur experienced at such a young age. He speaks of growing up without a mother, never having a true friend that wasn’t also an employee, and his personal struggles with substance abuse. He talks about how much Merlin means to him, as a friend and a lover. He tells him that he hasn’t felt this way about anyone before. The prince gets up and takes two shots of something strong after his lamenting.

Merlin tells Arthur about growing up in Ealdor, about his long-distance best friend Will, and how he started dancing. He speaks openly about his close relationship with his mother, about his own lack of friends, and finally about his anxiety. Arthur listens intently and says that he’d suspected as much. But that it doesn’t change how he feels. Before the two decide to retire to bed, Arthur smokes a fancy cigar while watching Merlin go through his evening stretching routine. 

The sex is just as rough, dirty, and passionate as ever. When it’s over, Merlin lays his head on Arthur’s chest. The prince kisses his forehead and reaches over to his bedside table. A small gold ring is pressed into Merlin’s palm. Merlin slides it on his right ring finger and watches Arthur do the same to his own. The rings glimmer in the low light, each with an intricate design embedded into the band. They symbolize a promise that Arthur makes to Merlin that night - to always be by his side. He promises that he won’t let his father prevent them from being together. He promises Merlin a forever, that even though there are bumps in the road, he will return to him in the end. 

Arthur tells Merlin that he loves him. And that he’s sorry for what he’s put him through and what the future might bring. 

Merlin tells Arthur that he loves him too. And that he’s still a pompous idiot that doesn’t deserve him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Adulting sucks.
> 
> Also, upped the chapter count to 25.

“Arthur?”

The prince quickly puts down his paintbrush and reaches for his cloth. He isn’t expecting anyone at this late hour - almost eleven - and he certainly isn’t expecting Gwen to walk into his studio unannounced. Arthur immediately feels self-conscious about the three empty beer bottles and a bag of weed sitting on the table beside him. He likes to keep his habits hidden from anyone other than his equerries, lest it get to the media. Before the girl can get a full look, Arthur blocks her view by standing in front of the table. “Yes, Gwen?” 

God, he hopes she isn’t here to talk about the other night. The sex was mediocre at best - way too vanilla for his tastes. Nothing compared to fucking Merlin. Just the thought of his lover sends Arthur to fidget with the ring around his right ring finger and a flicker of a smile to his lips. 

Gwen, bless her, pretends not to look at Arthur’s bare chest or at the table he’s trying to hide. He’s grateful for her discretion. “It’s about the other night -”

Arthur shakes his head, chuckling slightly. “I told you that I was horny - “

“No!” she quickly interjects. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I told you I needed to speak with you last week, when you had your friend with you. The tall one, the one Morgana...” The unspoken rest of the description causes Arthur to go on the defense. He crosses his arms over his chest with his fingers impatiently drumming on the back of his tricep. 

And as if on cue, Arthur keeps his phone vibrate in his pocket. Merlin is probably saying goodnight, telling Arthur he loves him, and maybe sending a quick dick pic to get him through the night alone. The prince wishes nothing more than for Gwen to leave him be. “Yes, I remember,” he snaps, eager to get the woman out of his rooms. 

Gwen nods her head, appearing embarrassed. “Well, I’m Princess Sophia’s maid too. I overheard her and her father that evening. They are planning something. Something that involves Sophia being crowned Queen regent and ruling alone.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur laughs. “Sophia knows that she will be crowned as consort, nothing more. Women do not yield power in Camelot unless there is no male blood heir.” 

“Exactly,” Gwen says. “Arthur, I think she wants the rule Camelot, with or without being married to you. She wants you to crown her as regent.”

Now, Arthur thinks, that is hilarious. A woman has never come to power before in Camelot, and Sophia certainly will not be the first. Morgana is more likely to rule than Sophia as his half-sister. “I will do no such thing. She doesn’t have Pendragon blood.” 

Gwen bites her lip. She looks to Arthur’s eyes for the first time. “I would watch my back if I were you.” 

Arthur laughs, brushing off her warning. “Thanks, Gwen.” 

And Merlin did send Arthur a quick picture of his genitals, which forces the prince to usher Gwen out of his rooms and his hand down into his pants. 

 

—————————————————————————————————————

 

The next evening, Merlin slumps over his kitchen table. His shoulder is swollen from being touched and prodded by Arthur’s doctor that afternoon while the diagnosis burns a hole in his heart. Torn rotator cuff, full tear. Surgery required. Six weeks of a sling, one year of physical therapy. 

His career with the Camelot Ballet is over. He won’t be able to stretch and work his shoulder for months, over which all of his strength in the arm will have melted away. Someone new will replace him in the company within weeks, as the show must always go on. There’s always the slight possibility that he’ll be hired by another company, but then he’ll be stuck working his way up the hierarchy all over again. He’ll say goodbye to his private dressing room and hello to communal changing rooms again. Twenty-odd years of training wasted because of a shredded tendon. 

Merlin wishes Arthur had been there to comfort him. The prince left Elyan with another first edition Austen book, a single rose, and a text saying nothing more than “I love you.” Although Merlin knows that Arthur is a busy man, his lover’s presence would do wonders for his anxiety during such a stressful appointment. It would have helped him feel less alone.

He peels himself up to standing and shuffles towards the bathroom. A hot shower is what he needs. With Hunith gone at work, there is little else to comfort him other than steam and warmth. The water can help disguise his tears. The man can only think one thought as he undresses:

You did this to yourself. If you had seen a doctor earlier, it would not be this bad. 

Merlin looks at himself in the mirror at his injured shoulder. He’s never hated his body more. It betrayed him for the first time, and he will not let it happen again. There will be no more dancing. He doesn’t deserve to feel happy again.

The hot water burns his skin raw. 

Worthless. A pathetic waste. 

That evening, Merlin tearfully tells his mother what happened. She slathers him in soothing herbs and makes him a cup of warm tea, whispering how sorry she is. Merlin thinks that she feels partly responsible for this; it was her, afterall, that tried to mend him with herbal salve. He assures her that she didn’t know better, that he loves her more now than he ever has before. She kisses him on the head. 

Merlin retreats to the safety of his bedroom, snuggled up in the armchair perched by the window. He pets Kilgharrah as he looks out at the emerging stars. The rhythm soothes him physically; mentally, it’s all he can do to keep from downing his entire medicine cabinet. There has only been one other instance in his life where he felt this depressed. As a call for help, he reaches for his phone. There are something things that your mother cannot fix. 

Merlin: I need you.  
Merlin: Please. 

Hours creep by without a response from Arthur. Merlin hasn’t moved from his perch, not even to search for food or drink. As the minutes tick by, Merlin feels more and more that Arthur won’t come. He convinces himself that Arthur only wants him for sex, and the thought is enough to have Merlin slip off the ring momentarily. A second later, he puts it back on. His finger feels too naked without it. 

The latest batch of tear is still drying when a soft knock at the door breaks his silence. Arthur pushes the door back and Merlin can’t help but smile softly. The prince is still dressed in a pressed suit and tie, probably from some important meeting that day, and looking completely impeccable. Merlin can’t believe that such a beautiful creature is his. 

“You came,” Merlin states. An immense feeling of relief floods over every crevice of his body. Arthur is acting like a proper boyfriend, coming to comfort him in his time of need. A part of him loves knowing that the prince of Camelot came running at his request. 

Arthur nods, returning Merlin’s smile. “Yeah, of course.” He makes the short trip across the room to Merlin and bends to kiss him. For the first time all day, Merlin feels his heart beat slow and mind quiet down. When they part, Arthur quickly pecks Merlin cheek with a fleeting kiss before settling back. The prince takes a seat on the edge of Merlin’s bed and beckons the man over to him. When Merlin settles in, head resting on Arthur’s shoulder, he relaxes. Arthur rests his head against Merlin’s. 

“Gaius told me what happened today,” Arthur says. 

Merlin nods. He’d expected as much. 

“You aren't going to be able to dance again?” 

“No, I will eventually,” Merlin whispers. “But by the time I recover, my job will be taken by someone else. I might as well reserve myself to local theater productions of The Nutcracker for the rest of my life.” 

“Or you could work for Gaius at the palace.” 

Merlin sighs. The poor man had immediately offered Merlin a job as soon as he administered the diagnosis, and the opportunity is too convenient for it to be a passing thought. Arthur clearly arranged this as a back up, just in case this same, tragic scenario presented itself. Merlin knows that it’s Arthur’s way of looking after him, and it’s sweet, but also completely unnecessary. And a bit insulting. Merlin is an adult and can take care of himself. “I respectfully declined the offer.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. This apparently is not the expected answer. “Oh?”

Again, Merlin nods.

“Well, I guess that’s your decision,” Arthur sighs. Disappointment drips from his voice. Merlin tries not to think about it. He couldn’t bear knowing that he let Arthur down, even if it was for his own good. “It would give us an excuse to see each other more often, though.”

Merlin would be lying if he said he didn’t consider that. He would love to see Arthur in passing, to exchange smiles and pleasantries. It’s dangerous, though. Uther’s threat to deport him is still looming overhead. If at all possible, Merlin would like to avoid any contact with the king. He doesn’t know if he could face seeing Sophia either, especially after she and Arthur are married. It would be the biggest slap in the face. If she became pregnant… It would be so hard to look at her each day. It would kill him to know that Arthur had been intimate with someone else. 

“Be my equerry.”

Merlin laughs. An equerry? He would basically be Arthur’s servant, and someone who would frequent the palace. He would have an even bigger change of running into Uther and be witness to watching Arthur and Sophia’s budding marriage. “You can’t be serious.” 

“I am,” Arthur quickly answers. “It’ll be risky, but when have we ever shied away from risk?”

“I don’t know, Arthur. This is probably the worst idea you’ve ever come up with.”

Arthur pulls back and nudges Merlin to do the same. “Think of all of the time we would spend together.”

“Think of how it would hurt me to watch you marry Sophia and have children - Shit.”  
And then, suddenly everything is too much for Merlin to handle. He feels overwhelmed with too much new information. His fight or flight starts to kick in, bringing a wave of nausea and sweat, and he pulls completely away from Arthur. The slightest touch is too much of a sensory input for him to process. He can’t understand what Arthur is saying to him or think about anything other than the panic. “This is too much,” he manages to stutter out. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

Merlin stands abruptly, pushes Arthur away and runs to the bathroom. He barely makes it in time before his stomach empties. Arthur runs in after him just as Hunith flies up the stairs. 

Arthur kneels down beside him and begins to rub his back. He doesn’t sound sure of himself. Merlin can’t blame him. In a shaky voice, Arthur says, “Merlin, talk to me. What’s going on?” 

Merlin retches again. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with explaining to Arthur what’s going on. 

Thankfully, it appears that Hunith’s motherly instincts kick in, for she pushes Arthur gently away before sliding into his place. She hands her son a damp rag and a glass of water to clean himself up. Her hand kneads small circles into his back. When Merlin’s breathing returns to normal, she helps him up. She places a reassuring kiss on his head. 

Merlin brings himself to look at Arthur. The prince stands in the doorway, wide eyed and confused. He hates that Arthur has to see him like this. The panic is probably the most unsexy, repulsive thing about himself, and Merlin hates it with his whole being. Hunith helps him into bed before turning to Arthur. She respectively advises him to go, that he is no longer needed here, and that she has everything handled. Her personality has drastically switched from the starstruck citizen of Camelot to the protective and caring mother she is. Arthur glances back at Merlin and opens his mouth to reply. Hunith immediately snaps with, “With all due respect, my Lord, please leave. You are not helping him by staying.” 

Arthur hesitates before nodding and turning to leave. He doesn’t even look at Merlin, and honestly, he seems glad to go. 

The front door closes with a small bang and Merlin cries himself to sleep. Arthur doesn’t text him goodnight. 

——————————————————-——————————————————  
The men spend the next week texting as usual, but they don’t call. They don’t sext, they don’t talk dirty, and it’s as if both of them are unsure about where they stand. Arthur schedules Merlin’s surgery for the next month, per Merlin’s request. The man can’t stand sitting around all day with no source of income for him or his mother, so he is driven to the only option for employment that he has left. And his heart yearns to see Arthur again, to smell his scent, and feel the warmth of his body. 

Merlin: If you can promise me that nothing will happen to me or my mother, I will become an equerry. 

Arthur: You start on Monday.

—————————————————————————————————————

Arthur is laying in bed, on his side, and trying to avoid getting up. He hears two, maybe three, of the equerries bustling around in the outer rooms preparing for the day, and wonders slightly if Merlin will be among them. The man is slated to start today, but Arthur doesn’t want to put any money on it. He thinks there’s probably a good chance Merlin will back out after realizing what a terrible idea this is. It’s so dangerous for the both of them, yet the possible rewards are a siren’s call. He wants to see Merlin every day of his life and to include him in every mundane moment, even if the man is being paid for it. 

“Rise and shine, princess!” Gwaine happily chides as he throws back the bedroom doors with gusto. Suddenly, the room is flooded with light and Arthur retreats further back into his nest. The idea of facing the day is sickening, even if Merlin is by his side. 

To Merlin, Arthur hears Gwaine explain, “His royal ass never wants to get up. Ever. You have to actually force him out of bed.” 

Merlin doesn’t reply. But Gwaine goes ahead and yanks back Arthur’s quilt anyways. Arthur swears before curling back into himself. A hard metal object bounces off of his bare leg and a cardboard box soon follows. “For your morning smoke. Merlin, open the windows. It’s not going to be a fun event when the alarms start blaring.”

It’s honestly a bit embarrassing for Arthur to have Merlin see him reach for his nicotine first thing in the morning. He somehow gets himself up into a seated position without looking up at the men. The cigarette is quickly lit and between his lips before three minutes have passed since he was woken. Arthur rests his head against the headboard of his bed as he slowly exhales the smoke. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“You are meeting with the jeweler about Sophia’s circlet in two hours, then your fiance requests lunch to talk more about wedding plans,” Gwaine rattles off. 

With the wedding in about two months, there’s a never ending task list for both bride and groom. Although most of the ceremonial arrangements are following ancient royal tradition, there are still many minute details to work out. Arthur’s uniform needs to be dry cleaned, the flowers need to be selected, the guest list finalized, the media releases need to be scripted, and many other equally as annoying things demand his and Sophia’s attention. Arthur’s seeing her daily to make these arrangements over lunch, and it is serving as a way to get to know his fiance. She’s not a terrible women - quite honorable and smart - but she isn’t Merlin. Arthur can’t help but feel his freedom slip slowly away. With Merlin now working for him, he at least has an excuse to see him each day. 

Arthur bangs his head against the heavy oak headboard and blows smoke up at the canopy of the bed. He watches it curl and dissipate before turning his attention to the men in his room. Gwaine is showing Merlin how to access Arthur’s schedule on his phone. The younger man looks so out of place in his bedroom, so much less haggard and worn than the rest of the lads. Arthur wonders if Merlin will be able to keep up his youthful and rested looks after a month of working here. The palace will suck the life out of him soon enough. 

“Gwaine,” Arthur calls. The man jerks his attention back to the prince. Arthur throws his legs over the side of the bed then hoists himself up carefully with a lit cigarette between his lips. “Let’s show Merlin what it’s really like to work for me.”

Before Gwaine could answer, Arthur begins, “Usually, I’m hungover in the morning. I was too excited to have you work here that I went to bed early with the use of a pill.” 

Merlin smiles a bit at that. 

Arthur picks up a new cigarette and lights it from the butt of the other. After a long drag, he continues. “Yesterday, Percy watched me puke my guts out into the plant over there.” He gestures towards a potted fern sitting by the windows. “You can expect something like that a few times a week.”

He toes into a pair of nearby house slippers. “I typically have two or three cigarettes after I wake up, usually chased down by something with alcohol. Some mornings, I even open up the back of the liquor cabinet and do a bit of -“

“Well, don’t expect me to help you with any of that,” Merlin finally says. It’s the first words he’s spoken all day, but they’re with the usual sarcastic tone that Arthur’s used to. 

Arthur laughs. “Well, you work for me now. You’ll do as I wish.” 

“I will not,” Merlin snaps. “Especially not if it’s going to hurt you.”

Arthur blows a perfect smoke ring as he contemplates an answer. He narrows his eyes at Merlin, almost in a sinister way. “You of all people should know how much stress I’m under. You’ll do well to help me with my vices when I need it.” 

Gwaine tosses a set of clothes to Arthur. “Just shut up and get dressed.”

Arthur catches the clothes with his free hand and drops them onto the bed. He takes a final drag before placing it beside the first in the ashtray. As he dresses, Gwaine fusses with the schedule more and takes Merlin back to the closets. Arthur assumes he’s being shown around, as if Merlin hadn’t already spent a night here. In the back of his mind, he wonders if it’ll be detrimental for their relationship to have Merlin serving Arthur. 

Merlin returns back to the main bedroom a few moments later. Arthur stands in his boxers over the window, drinking a class of what appears to innocently be orange juice. However, the opened bottle of champagne sits just beside his elbow. He glances over at Merlin, half embarrassed that the man gets to see him in all his misery. 

“I had no idea it was this bad,” Merlin finally says. “I mean, I knew you smoked a lot and you have a tendency towards substance abuse, but it’s 7:00 in the morning and you’re drinking champagne.” 

Arthur puts down the glass. “It’s what I have to do.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s free hand. “Let’s try to stop.” 

“I know, dammit,” Arthur snaps. “Do you not think I’ve tried? Do you not think that I wish I didn’t have to do this every morning?” 

Merlin sighs. He could have no idea what it’s like for Arthur to live like this. The pressure, the stress, his impending and unwanted marriage… 

“When do I have to leave?” Arthur asks after an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

Merlin shrugs. “The hell if I know.”

Arthur chuckles. “You’re shit at this job already.” He pulls Merlin to his body and wraps his arms protectively around the man. He kisses a trail down from Merlin’s earlobe to the base of his neck, which elicits a soft moan from the other man. It’s been too long since they were last able to touch each other. “Gwaine!” 

The man reenters the room with an armload of laundry. “Yes?” 

With Merlin still pressed against his chest, Arthur asks, “What time do I need to leave?” 

Gwaine checks his watch. “About an hour, but if we hurry we can probably squeeze with ninety minutes.”

Arthur smiles at that. “Perfect. Let us know when it gets to be 8:00.”

“Sure, sire,” Gwaine replies. “Am I to make sure you aren’t distrubed?”

Arthur can feel the heat from Merlin’s blush. “Under absolutely no circumstances are you permitted to come in.” 

Gwaine shakes his head, chuckling to himself as he exits the bedroom. Arthur can tell Merlin was a bit uncomfortable with the exchange by the way he relaxes the second Gwaine leaves. To give him some more control and space, Arthur releases his grasp. 

Merlin takes a small step away from Arthur and turns to face him. “I take it that part of my employment is to keep you sexually satisfied?”

Arthur tilts his head back to down the remainder of his drink. He relishes in the rush from the champagne and feels even more ready to ravish the man. “No, because that would make you a prostitute. You’ll keep me sexually satisfied because you’re just as needy as me.” 

Merlin bites his lip. 

Arthur places the glass onto a nearby table for someone else (IE: Gwaine) to pick up. His hands eagerly reach for Merlin’s shirt, where he slowly undoes each of the buttons. He takes the time to grace his fingertips along the coarse, dark hairs that are sprinkled across Merlin’s chest. “I want you to fuck me today,” he nonchalantly says. 

Merlin’s eyes go wide. “Oh yeah?”

Arthur finishes with the last button. Merlin’s crisp shirt now hands loosely from his toned body. “Yeah, I want you to fuck me nice and good. You’re going to come inside of me, plug me up, and send me off to lunch with my fiance.” 

Merlin swallows thickly. He makes a sound of contentment when Arthur latches onto his neck for a long suck. When the prince releases, there’s a bright red mark on Merlin’s pale skin, just below his neckline. He pushes the shirt off of Merlin’s shoulders. 

“Fuck,” Merlin moans. “I haven’t topped in ages.” 

“I haven’t bottomed in ages,” Arthur counteracts. “But don’t worry, I’m still calling the shots.” He jerks down Merlin’s trousers in one swift motion. The men now stand naked, save for their undergarments. “Suck my cock.”

Merlin does exactly as he’s told and drops down to his knees. Arthur drops his boxers and lets his half-hard cock flounce forward into Merlin’s face. He takes a handful of Merlin’s hair and forces the man to take him whole. He leans up against the windowsill, not caring who might look up. He wants the kingdom to know how much he loves Merlin, but also how much he fucking loves sex with men. 

Arthur closes his eyes and savors the feeling of having Merlin at his control. “Damn, you’re so good at this.” 

Merlin sucks harder, seeming to enjoy the praise. Arthur bucks his hips in time to the rhythm that Merlin’s setting, but when the man starts to lick a trail back to Arthur’s balls, he knows it’s time to move on. He really, really doesn’t want to finish before the main event. Roughly, as he likes it, Arthur shoves Merlin back off of his cock. The man sits back on his haunches, looking up at Arthur and waiting for his next request. God, it makes Arthur’s cock twitch knowing that he has this much power over this beautiful man. 

“Bed,” Arthur commands. He gestures towards the bed with a short flick of his wrist. “And take off the rest of your clothes.”

Merlin smiles mischievously as he stands up again. The man teasingly graces his fingers down his flank, across his hips, and over to his own boxers. The bulge of his hard cock is straining against the fabric and a small wet spot is the result of pooling precome. Arthur loves it. He loves seeing how wound up Merlin gets around him. The dancer toys with the elastic band for a second before Arthur can’t take another minute of this.

Arthur whips Merlin around, pushes him over the windowsill, and spanks him. “Quit your teasing.” He jerks down the offending article of clothing in half a second. “Try that again, and I’ll spank you so hard your ass will be red for a week.” 

Merlin wimpers against the window. “Careful, my shoulder…”

Arthur releases him from his tight grasp. After a very passionate, tongue-tangling, and needy apology kiss, the prince drags Merlin over to the bed. He reaches into his bedside table and takes out a decent sized buttplug and a jar of lube. Merlin’s eyes go wide. 

“Let’s get this moving,” Arthur commands. He joins Merlin on the bed, eager to have Merlin inside him. It’s been months and months since he’d bottomed, and damn, he’s more than a little excited. Just the thought sends a twitch to his nether regions. 

The prince lays on his back with his legs splayed. As if on cue, Merlin reaches for the lube. He generously slathers the stuff onto his fingers. His gentle fingers trace out the path down to Arthur’s entrance, and then he slowly circles the muscle to stretch it out. When Merlin inserts the tip of his finger, his eyes immediately fly up to Arthur’s. It’s as if he’s checking to make sure Arthur can take it. The action is so tender that it makes the prince’s heart swell up with love for the man. 

“Yes, baby,” Arthur moans. As soon as the term of endearment leaves his lips, he glances to gauge Merlin’s reaction. From the immense grin on the man’s face, Arthur concludes that he likes it.  
Merlin slides into the role of dominant so slowly that Arthur doesn’t notice it at first. The man kisses Arthur’s thighs and cock as he works him open with two fingers. Every so often, Merlin will check Arthur’s face for any signs of protest. All he gets are obscene moans and curses from his prince. 

Soon, Merlin is nudging Arthur onto his stomach. “It will be a little easier to slide in when you’re like this.”

Arthur isn’t sure how he feels about being on his hands and knees in front of Merlin. It’s a very intimate position that he almost never finds himself in, especially since he’s always in charge sexually. Until now, apparently. 

“You ready, love?”

The endearment makes Arthur smile and does eliminate a little of the apprehension that he’s feeling regarding being a submissive. “Yes, baby. Please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Merlin coos. And Arthur swoons.

Arthur tries not to worry when he feels his own cock soften the second Merlin pushes in. The stretching hurts, and it feels much more uncomfortable than Arthur remembers. He almost backs out until he feels Merlin’s hands gently massaging his ass. A few kisses are peppered down his spine as the man fully enters. It’s slow. 

“You doing okay?” 

Arthur nods. “Yeah, just getting used to it again.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, having the prince take my cock is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever done.” 

Arthur glances over his shoulder to smirk at Merlin. The other man grins down at him and leans down to kiss him. 

“I love you, Arthur,” he whispers. 

Arthur means every word of his response. “I love you more, Merlin.” 

Merlin starts to shallowly thrust with his hands gripping Arthur’s hips. It takes a few minutes before Arthur can feel himself get hard again, and a few more after that before he’s pushing his hips back to meet Merlin’s with each thrust. 

The care that Merlin is taking is more than Arthur has ever awarded a partner. He isn’t used to such delicate sex, but he thinks he likes it. Is this what making love is like? 

Arthur shifts his weight so that he can grip the headboard of his bed. He uses it as leverage to change the angle at which Merlin’s moving, and soon he’s moaning with a new vigor. Suddenly, he decides he needs more. And he needs to be back in control. 

Roughly, as per his usual fashion, Arthur forces Merlin backwards. Their bodies break apart in the movement, and Arthur is able to straddle Merlin’s hips. He aligns Merlin’s cock with his entrance again. “I’m gonna ride your cock until I come.”

“Are you?” Merlin retorts. 

Arthur reaches forward to wrap his hand around Merlin’s neck. He lightly chokes Merlin, careful not to hurt him and to look for any signs of discomfort, before bouncing up and down. He loves seeing himself back as the dominant. “Don’t challenge me.” 

Merlin’s breathing starts to pick up as he starts to dig his nails into the flesh of Arthur’s hips. He’s clearly enjoying this, and it’s starting to make Arthur’s cock ache for attention. Reluctantly, Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neck to fist his own dick. His thighs start to scream from exertion but the feeling is too euphoric to stop. So by the time Arthur comes, his body is ready to be done. 

He pulls off of Merlin the second he feels the climax coming. With the aid of his hand, Arthur sprays Merlin’s face with his ejaculate, smearing the liquid around the man’s cheeks and jaw with his cock. He spreads it across Merlin’s lips then dips his tip in for a clean. 

“Fuck me until you come,” Arthur commands. He picks the plug back up and toys with it, showing it off to Merlin. He positions himself so that he’s kneeling at an angle over the headboard, ass in the air and ready. 

“Fucking fuck,” Merlin moans as he pushes back inside. The thrusts that follow are hard, fast, and rough. The headboard hits against the wall with a loud thump with every movement. Moments later, Merlin spills his load inside of Arthur. He shouts the prince’s name as he does and presses his face down into the other man’s back as he shoots inside. Arthur can feel the smear of his own come now clinging to his back. It’s actually really hot. 

The plug is carefully insert, as per Arthur’s request. 

“Shit,” Arthur breathes as he lays back onto the bed. “That was something.”

Merlin plops down beside him. “Yeah, that was.” 

Arthur reaches for Merlin’s right hand. He checks to see if the man is still wearing his ring, and then relaxes a little when he sees it gleaming on his finger. 

Merlin catches him looking. “I’ve never taken it off.” 

“Me either.” Arthur holds up his own hand to show. He hasn’t take the ring off once since that one night. He loves knowing that Merlin hasn’t either. 

Suddenly, there is a loud banging on the door. Gwaine shouts that it’s 8:00, and both of the men sadly push themselves up to a seated position. After another long kiss and an exchange of “I love you,” they dress and clean themselves up. 

Arthur absolutely loves going through his day with Merlin. He loves that Merlin gets to be by his side as he sits through a meeting with the jeweler, a lunch with Sophia, a tele-meeting with a neighboring country about trade, and several hours sitting behind a computer working on diplomatic matters. But he loves knowing that Merlin’s come is pent up inside of him throughout all of his interactions, and especially those with Uther and Sophia. It’s the ultimate fuck you. 

Thankfully, Merlin had the decency to hang back for any events with Uther in attendance. Arthur knows that it wouldn’t end well if Uther knew that he’d hired his lover as an equerry and paid thousands for his partner’s surgery. Or the new car sitting in Merlin’s driveway. Or the vacation he booked just before the wedding for the two of them. 

For now, all is good.


End file.
